Nothing Sacred
by Amara777
Summary: Belle is a young writer who wants to branch out of writing romance and happy endings, so she travels to a cheerful looking town that has a history of death for inspiration. She couldn't have picked a worse time, for children have begun to disappear again.
1. Prologue

**Warning:** **Basically, this story features the classic Disney characters you know and love put in a normal, modern setting, with a pinch of mystery, suspense, tragedy and horror. This _will_ have gore and many dark themes, including implied sexual abuse, in the future. Those who are sensitive to violence towards children, I won't stop or blame you from going back and pretending this doesn't exist. You can even flame me if you're _that_ upset and offended. Either way I don't care, just send me your honest opinion.**

Disclaimer: I do not own Disney or his characters. If I did, (as you've probably guessed) there would be _so_ many lawsuits from neurotic parents.

* * *

**Prologue**:

When the boy opened his eyes, he found that he couldn't see anything. Everything was pitch black, with no light coming from the outside. The floor was cold and hard, as were the concrete walls when the boy touched them. He inhaled a few nervous breaths, and then tried to stand up, only to find that one of his legs had a chain connected to its ankle. Sitting down again, the boy fingered the large, cold chain up to where it was connected to the stone wall. His heart began to thump against his ribcage, and his breathing became more shallow and panicked.

When the thirteen-year-old to be runaway pictured his escape from his parents, this little scenario was not in the picture. He had hoped to go to that glorious island he had been told about by one of his neighbors, "Pleasure Island"; a personal paradise for children who wanted to get away from the restricting rules of their parents. In fact, he was supposed to meet said neighbor so he could take him there himself, but he hadn't shown up.

…Right?

The boy closed his eyes, trying to backtrack to an hour ago, at the most, when he had gone to their meeting spot in the woods. It was dark, with only the full moon lighting the forest path. The kid considered himself lucky that he hadn't gotten lost. He remembered standing by the oak tree with his backpack on his shoulder, rocking against the balls of his feet. He remembered thinking about his older sister, who had run off the year before.

He missed his older sister. She always joined in his fun, supporting him with everything he did, but apparently there was only so much she could take with their parents' restrictions. Their parents begrudgingly allowed her to leave, because she was of legal age. She was now living in another state, only visiting and writing letters to their family for special occasions. Her little brother wanted to join her, but their parents weren't willing to give up custody of him, since he was still too young in the government's eyes.

Those were one of the few moments in his life he actually wanted to grow up, just so his parents, and other adults would stop looking at him as if he were stupid compared to them. But, then again, that would make him just like _them_, and that was the last thing the boy wanted. He still wanted to be carefree, without worries. He didn't want to conform to society and fit into their standards. He wanted to stay the way he was, if not physically then at least mentally. Any adult who wanted him to act otherwise was not to be trusted, including his parents. The only adult who understood him had been his neighbor, and that was the only reason why the boy trusted him.

Now that he thought about it, he was mulling all this over when he had been waiting for his old friend. And while he was distracted with his thoughts…

He couldn't remember. The boy didn't feel any pain on the back of his head, which his presumed abductor would have done to knock him out cold. The faint memory of a foul, acidic smell in his nostrils pinched his mind, but the boy couldn't get a strong hold on it. But it probably didn't matter right now. Whatever had happened, it had gotten him here, in this cold, damp place.

_Dammit_, the boy cursed in his head, softly hitting the back of his head against the wall and glaring ahead at the darkness. He didn't like using curse words all that much; he often thought it made him more like his father than he would have liked, and he disliked his father. But he felt that the moment called for it. He remembered how his parents had mentioned horror stories of children disappearing and being abducted, but he had always disregarded them carelessly. He could just picture their smug, condescending faces as they said to him, "We told you so."

The boy jumped when he felt something furry brush up against one of his hands. He let out a cry and snapped his hand back, pushing the small body away from him, and held it close to his chest. An indignant squeak answered him, as well as the faint skittering of small feet across the floor to the other side of his prison, most likely into a small hole in the floor. The boy just blinked in the darkness, his knees up against his chest and his arms wrapped around them.

_A…mouse?_

Despite the situation, the boy found himself snorting slightly, which turned into chuckling, and then into loud laughter. He fell on his side to the floor, guffaws escaping his mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. As his face flushed and his eyes watered, he started hitting the floor with one hand and covering his eyes with the other. He curled his body into a fetal position as his laughter continued.

The sleeve of his shirt soon became soaked with tears as his body shook, but his laughter did not cease. Not because of anything funny. The boy just realized that he _had no idea what to do_. He never expected this to happen to _him_. He didn't think he deserved this. What had he done for this to happen to him?!

...Was it because he disobeyed his parents?

Because he didn't take life seriously?

Because he often snapped at any adult who would scold him?

That's pretty much what his sins were, but that didn't make it at all fair, in the boy's opinion. There were plenty of boys like him in the village, so why did it have to be _him_?

His laughter died, but the bitter tears remained. The hand over his eyes clenched into a tight fist, his skin turning white. He removed his hand, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring and harsh breaths escaping his mouth in smoky puffs. He stood up, feeling adrenaline course through his veins, and started moving his chained foot, making the chain hit the wall, causing a noise.

"LET ME OUT!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETME_OUT_!"

The boy continued to yell, scream and make as much noise as he could with his obvious restrictions. He had a set of lungs on him that made him proud, and he was counting on it to get his captor annoyed enough to at least get him/her to open the door of the room (if it had one).

He was so caught up with his noisemaking that he didn't take notice of the faint opening and closing of a door behind him. Nor did he notice the silent footsteps that sounded like they belonged to a middle aged male adult. He didn't even hear the faint singing that came from the mysterious man, who was closely approaching the boy…

"_When you wish upon a star…_

"LET ME OUT!"

"_Makes no difference who you are…_

"LET. ME. _OUT_!"

"_Anything your heart desires…"_

"I WANT OUT! GET ME—mmph!"

The boy was cut off when a calloused hand covered his mouth. A strong arm wrapped itself around his torso, holding him tightly against a flat, strong chest. The boy tried to struggle, but it was no use. The man was not only too strong for him, but, (and this guess just made fear stab his heart), the man seemed to _enjoy_ his vain attempts at a fight and escape.

The boy breathed harshly in and out through his nose, taking in his presumed captor's musky smell, which only led to bile rising in his throat. When the man's smirking lips brushed against his ear, the boy's eyes widened.

His blood froze as words were sung softly (yet mockingly) into his ear.

"_Will come to you…"_

* * *

Author's Note:

Your Question: How could you let this happen?!

My Answer: I have no freakin' clue. I don't even hate Disney; I grew up with the movies, for gods sake! The last thing I want is for something like this to happen to any Disney character, so I feel kind of guilty for putting these characters, especially the children through this. But it's all for the sake of the plot, I swear to you!

Another possible question of your's: Who is "the boy" in the prologue?

My answer: I think it's pretty obvious, but you can send me your guesses with your reviews. His name will be revealed in the future.


	2. Chapter 1

**Belle, Jasmine, and Ariel's age: 24 (Just in case anyone's curious)**

**Chapter 1: The Town**

_Tap, tap._

"_It was a dark and stormy night…"_

"Hm…no. Definitely not."

_Backspace._

_Tap, tap._

"_Aurora whimpered as she clung her body to the stone cold wall behind her…"_

"Eh…maybe not."

_Backspace._

Belle sighed as she stared at the screen of her laptop. The digital paper that was part of Microsoft Word was blank—completely blank. There wasn't even a title page or anything. No matter how long she had sat in front of that screen (an hour and a half), no words would form inside her head. The young woman pouted at the blank screen for a few more minutes before finally releasing a frustrated scream that bounced off the walls of her apartment, probably disturbing her neighbors on her floor, but she didn't care. Then, with a low moan, Belle dropped her head on her desk, bringing pain to her forehead, but again she didn't care.

"I hate writer's block," she whimpered sadly.

At the sound of her human's head hitting the desk, a female American Cocker Spaniel with beige fur and a blue collar lifted her head from her paws and tilted her head at Belle, her puppy dog eyes glittering with concern. She lifted herself off her small bed and walked over to Belle, looking up at her. The small dog whined in the back of its throat and nuzzled her human's leg.

Belle turned her head so she was able to look back down at her dog, and then put on a small smile. She reached down and stroked the dog's head comfortingly.

"Sorry about that Lady," she said. "I'm just having a little trouble right now."

Lady let out a sound that reflected her confusion. Belle laughed, sat up, and bent down to lift her onto her lap. While gently stroking Lady's head Belle pointed at her laptop, with a sardonic smile.

"See that? That's the reason why Mommy is so upset," she said, dryly. "Mr. Dell has wiped my mind of my entire day. I swear, I had the introduction and first few chapters in my head, then I turned this baby on, and—ZAP!" Belle made her eyes go comically wide. "My mind went blank. Nothing, nada, zippo. And it was all this things fault!"

Lady whined, tilting her head in confusion. Then she shifted her gaze to Belle, who looked like she had finally gone mad, if the accusatory glare she directed towards her computer was any indication. Belle caught Lady's look and burst out laughing.

"Yeah, that probably sounds crazier than when I said it inside my head." She suddenly rolled her eyes to the ceiling, looking forlorn. "Oh, this whole thing is crazy. What was I _thinking_?"

Lady stood on Belle's lap with her hind legs, and each paw on her human's shoulders to stand properly. She barked up at the young woman, looking happy and encouraging. Belle chuckled softly, her blue eyes twinkling at her dog fondly. As a reward, she gently scratched behind Lady's right ear, knowing right where she liked it.

"Thanks Lady. Your support always helps." Belle's brown eyes narrowed somewhat, as she mused. "Still, I can't help but think that I'm way in over my head with this…"

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off there when she heard her apartment door slam open. When Belle looked to see who it was she beamed when she saw it was two of her best friends, Ariel and Jasmine.

"Hey guys, what's up?" she waved at them.

Ariel, dressed in a white shirt and a flowing blue skirt, pranced inside towards her friend, smiling and sea colored eyes glittering with glee. Jasmine, adorning a pair of jeans and a blue shirt, followed right after with a mellow smile on her face.

"Belle, you will never guess where my next gig is," Ariel jumped up and down in front of Belle, her loose red hair bouncing.

"Uh, Broadway? Radio City Music Hall?" Belle asked, her eyes going up and down as her friend jumped.

Her bubbly friend shook her head at both guesses; smile still plastered to her face.

"Try Denmark's royal palace!" she squealed, grabbing Belle's hands to lift her friend up to spin her around. Right before Belle stood up, Lady luckily jumped down to the floor to watch the spectacle.

Belle's eyes nearly popped out of her sockets, not so much because she was lifted up and spun around by her friend, but at the answer. Sure, Ariel was a phenomenal singer, possibly the greatest that Belle had ever met, but a royal palace? In Denmark? That still had some need to be taken in.

"No way," she said, after the brief spinning. "That's too incredible to be true." Belle looked to Jasmine, who was more levelheaded. "Jazz, tell me it isn't true."

Jasmine laughed. "Oh it's true all right," at Belle's gape she added, "I know, I almost didn't believe it either."

With her mouth still open in shock, Belle turned back to face Ariel. Then she grabbed Ariel's hands, and the two girls let out victorious squeals in unison. Jasmine smiled at her two friends, putting a congratulatory hand on Ariel's shoulder.

"Ari, how did you manage to land that gig? I mean, it's a royal palace…in _Denmark_!" Belle exclaimed.

"_I know_," the redhead said. "I almost didn't believe it when Sebastian told me, but it's true! Apparently, the Prince of Denmark was at my last show, and he liked my singing so much that he chose me as one of the singers at his birthday party."

Jasmine whistled. "Wow, the Prince of Denmark _chose_ you? That's lucky, Ariel."

Curious, Belle asked, "Have you met him before Jasmine?"

"I've glanced at him in passing at some balls, but never talked to him," the Arabian Princess in disguise played with her long, black braid. "I have heard that he is difficult to impress though."

"Wow, I really am lucky," Ariel commented. "I can't wait to meet him." She then turned to Belle, "How are things with you, Bells?"

Belle nearly groaned as she walked back to her laptop, and pointed at it as her answer. Ariel cringed slightly at the blankness at the screen, while Jasmine frowned slightly. It wasn't the blankness of the screen that bothered them. They just knew how Belle got when she had writer's block. It was never really pretty.

"Does this mean we should have brought cookie dough?" Ariel whispered to Jasmine.

"Nah, that's for breakups," Jazz replied. "This might require something much more…powerful."

"Double dark chocolate fudge cake then?"

"Hm—that might do."

"Right."

Jasmine handed Ariel some money and the other woman slipped it into her purse. Then Ariel walked out of the apartment, waving back at her two friends. "Be right back guys!"

Belle raised an eyebrow, gesturing at her door with her thumb. "Where's she going off to?"

Jasmine smiled, "To get you a cure for your writer's block."

"Oh that's so sweet. You guys really didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, well you know Ariel and me. So, what's up?"

Jasmine sat down on Belle's beige couch, looking at her friend with stern brown eyes. Lady jumped up and joined her, sitting on her lap to be cuddled. Belle sighed and sat down beside her leaning her head back against the sofa.

"Jasmine, why didn't you stop me from doing this?" she moaned.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, amused. " 'Stop you'? Belle, how can I? You're the one who said," she cleared her throat, making her voice a few octaves higher. " 'I want to be taken seriously! No more sappy, lovely romances for me. I want to write something on a _serious_ matter'."

Belle pouted. "Okay, that was a _horrible _imitation of my voice. I'm not _that_ whiny…Am I?" she added a little worried.

Her friend threw her head back and laughed. "Of course not, Belle. I'm sure you're not the only romance writer out there who goes through this kind of transition. I mean it's not really easy," Jasmine paused, scrunching up her eyebrows in thought. "Though I do wonder what got you interested in doing this in the first place."

Belle blew a piece of her brown hair out of her face. "I don't know. I guess I want to branch out, away from my innocent image, I guess."

"Is that really all though?"

"…Maybe not," she shrugged. "It could be that I'm just bored with happy endings and lying to my readers."

Jasmine propped her arm on the sofa's arm and leaned her cheek on her palm. "But it's not really lies, is it? I mean happy endings _do_ exist."

"Yeah, but not everything is sugary sweet," Belle explained. "I want to be a little realistic with my books from now on, adding in a mixture of both the dark and light aspects of life, not one over the other. But…"

"But…?"

Sigh. "My childhood wasn't exactly bad. Actually, now that I think about it, I was pretty sheltered compared to my peers. Not to mention that my hometown was like a place of complete perfection and happiness. Nothing bad happened to anyone—nothing that gained news anyway—and people were friendly to each other."

"And that matters because…?"

Belle grasped her hair in frustration. "Because of my great childhood, I can't get a good feel of a dark kind of atmosphere that I would need to realistically depict in my new book!"

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "So, basically you're saying that because of your fabulous childhood, you can't find something to reference back to for inspiration for your mystery book?"

"…Yeah, pretty much."

"…That's pretty messed up Bells…"

Groan. "I know."

"When did Lumierre (Belle's editor) say that he wanted your manuscript?"

Another groan. "In about a month from now."

"Oh…"

A silence passed between the two friends. Jasmine rolled her eyes to the ceiling, looking thoughtful. Belle just stared up at the ceiling, feeling a sense of shame in her current writing abilities. Lady just swished her head side to side, silently observing both women. Suddenly, Jasmine let out a little "ah-ha," coming up with an idea.

"What you need Belle is quick inspiration," she suggested. "Most likely from a real life crime that happened around here."

Belle picked up her head and stared straight at Jasmine. She scrunched up her eyebrows thoughtfully.

"That might work," she said softly. "But where are we going to find a crime that is bad enough to draw inspiration from?"

"I might know."

Belle, Lady and Jasmine turned their heads to the door of the apartment, seeing Ariel standing there holding a pink box that held the chocolaty treat. Her voice had been so soft that it was almost inaudible, and her face was suddenly sullen. She walked over to Belle's dinner table and put the box on it, already opening it to cut a piece of cake for each of them, minus Lady. She walked to the counter to a knife, three plates and forks, and then walked back to cut the cake. Her two friends blinked as they watched her, bemused at her change of mood.

"Daddy once told me of this case in this small town up in the country," Ariel explained. "It had occurred ten years ago, a few years before he retired from the force, in this town named Fantasia, if I recalled correctly. Apparently, for twelve years the town's children kept disappearing and ending up dead, with no sign of the killer until ten years ago. This case has now been known as the 'Fantasia Murder Cases.'

"There are little details as to how he killed the children, but from what Daddy told me, I can tell you that the bastard had been brutal," she continued with angry, narrow eyes. "He showed them no mercy. He would put them—mere children—through numerous methods of torture. He starved them; kept them tied up, beat them, stabbed them with needles (but taking care not to hit any arteries), and he put them through darkness for hours on end—possibly until they went crazy with fear, for many of the victims seemed to have self-inflicted wounds. And even worse," Ariel shuddered with restrained anger and disgust. "On each child were signs of sexual abuse."

Jasmine's eyes widened as the dirty details sunk in. "Did they ever catch him?"

Ariel breathed in and out, calming herself down. It may have been childish of her, but she couldn't help but get angry at those kinds of cases. She sat down at the table, already taking a bite of the chocolate cake. Eating chocolate always calmed her down. Well, that and singing.

"Yeah, they got him," she said. "He was a local, one who was well-liked by the town and its children, for he was a toy maker. Funny though, his last victim had apparently been his son."

After a silence, Belle and Jasmine walked over to the table to eat their pieces of cake. Lady followed them cuddling Ariel's leg to relieve the woman's tension. Ariel smiled a thanks down at her and turned to her two friends.

"Where exactly is the place again," Belle asked hesitantly.

"Fantasia is just a few miles away from this city, in the country," Ariel answered. "Are you really considering going?"

"Well…it sounds like it could offer something," the writer replied awkwardly. "And since it's so close, it should be okay to check it out."

Jasmine smiled reassuringly at her, patting her shoulder. "I say go for it. Maybe you'll find something interesting about the case."

Ariel smiled at her also, albeit her's was a little smaller. "I don't think the people will mind a curious researcher, so you should go for it. You might have to rent one of their houses though, and to do that you will have to give the mayor a call."

"Do you know the number?"

"Oh, it's on this website that's trying to promote tourism for the town. The website is…"

Soon after, Belle started making preparations for her trip. She packed her clothes into a rolling suitcase, and then she packed some books, toiletries, hair products and some of Lady's things in a black backpack. Within a few days she had a house rented out for her in Fantasia and had bought a ticket to the town.

All the while, she couldn't help but get the feeling that someone (or something?) was watching her every move…

Yet, she shook it off, thinking: _What's the worse that could happen?_

* * *

Note: I'm a little shocked that I actually got a review, but thank you nothing but a dreamer! I still feel a little guilty, but thanks for your support.

Also, about the Denmark thing, I can't remember, but I think Prince Eric came from Denmark. At least I think that's the setting in the original _Little Mermaid_. Also, I made Ariel's dad a retired cop in this universe because of his protectiveness. As a daughter of a retired officer, I'd know about protective fathers.

Jasmine is still a princess here, but she's also allowed to spend time as a "commoner," as long as she tends to her royal duties.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Visitor**

Officer Mael Claude* usually liked his job. He was well known for his fighting skills, his ice cold resolve that was often present, especially in the interrogation room, and his willingness to pull out a gun and shoot anyone who tried to point a weapon at him first. Though he was relatively young, he was respected, but not really well liked. He never socialized with his fellow police officers and his methods of interrogation kind of turned people off from him. These traits have led to the rest of the Fantasia Police Force giving him the nickname, "The Beast of the FPF."

Not that Mael cared. Frankly, he didn't like associating with people (at least most people) at all. It would be only natural that people would turn away from him in return. His friends were few, but that was fine, because those friends are the ones he knows he can trust, at least to some degree. Over the past few years, Mael found it harder to trust people. Humanity had such a vast capacity to commit crimes such as murder.

The Fantasia Murders proved that. Mael, being twenty-six, had grown up during the time where children he knew and grew up with were disappearing around Fantasia. School friends he would hang out and play with would be there one day, then gone the next. He remembered the fear he felt, as if some big, shadowy monster would come out from the dark to take him where the rest of his friends had gone. When he was sixteen the murderer had been revealed, shocking not only him, but also the entire town. It was so hard for Mael to accept that such a man, who had been kind to him during his childhood, was the person who had been picking off his friends over the years.

For a while—like many others—he was in denial, declaring that the man was innocent, but as time passed Mael found that he couldn't deny the evidence any longer. He was at first disillusioned, and then furious. Men like that murderer shouldn't exist, he kept thinking to himself. They had to be brought to justice.

Hence, why Mael Claude was where he was today, delivering justice to any murderer who tried to disrupt his beloved hometown.

Hence, why Mael Claude was willing to help the young woman sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

He blinked his icy blue eyes at the young girl before him. She wore a denim jacket over a shirt, a pair of denim jeans and a pair of sneakers. She had certainly changed since he had last seen her, which must have been about a year ago when she went away. Her blonde hair was shorter now, about chin length. Her sharp, heart shaped face was still soft, and the rest of her body still petite and feminine, yet she looked a little older and wiser compared to the year before. The worst part is that the past few weeks seemed to have aged her at least five years, what with the current circumstances. She looked as if she hadn't gotten any sleep, yet her green-blue eyes burned with determination and anger.

She lifted a hand and put a picture on his desk, right in front of him. It was a picture of a young thirteen-year-old boy with a crop of bright red hair and eyes just like her's, only they had more green than blue surrounding the iris. Smiling, the boy had winked to the camera, standing in front of a grassy mountain range, with both hands up making two peace signs. In the photo he was wearing a green T-shirt, jeans, sneakers and his signature green cap, which was put on flap forward.

Mael held the photo in his hand, feeling a slight foreboding and sadness as he stared at the familiar boy's face. The young girl in front of him watched him observe the photo for a few minutes, and then opened her mouth.

"Have you found him yet?"

Her voice was hard and restrained. Mael could tell she was waiting to yell at him, and if not him, then at anybody who would pass in front of her next.

"Tinkerbell, we are doing the best we can," he said firmly.

"Then why haven't you found him yet?!" Tinkerbell snapped, her eyes looking glossy.

Mael's eyes narrowed. "Because we have yet to find a witness that could give us information pertaining to your brother and his whereabouts."

"You have to be joking!" she choked out indignantly, standing up from the chair. "There had to have been some people who would know where he would go! Peter w—_is_ popular in this town. Many of his friends could know—!"

"Tink, I've spoken with each of his friends and none of them knew where he was on the night he went missing. He didn't tell anyone where he was going. My guess is that Peter ran away from home," he replied, with no hesitancy in using Tinkerbell's childhood nickname. "I'm sorry."

Tinkerbell's eyes went wide and even glossier. Harsh breaths escaped from her mouth, her face became flushed and her whole body was shaking. She sat herself down in her seat, and put a pale hand over her eyes, her head bowed forward so her bangs covered the upper half of her face. Her shoulders started shaking as her breaths became shaky.

"Three weeks and four days Mael, that's how long he's been gone," she finally said after a pause. Her voice was shaky and soft, but not inaudible. "Before that, my life in the city was actually picking up for me. I had a job that paid enough for me to pay my rent. I was attending a college on a scholarship. I think I even had a date planned," she broke off, choking on empty laughter. "Then, three weeks and four days ago I got a call from mom telling me that Pete hadn't come home. Before that, I didn't get a call from anyone else, not even Pete. I still haven't gotten any contact from him."

She removed her hand, revealing that her eyes were now flooded with clear tears, though she looked absolutely furious. "Do you honestly think that he would run away and not call me by now?"

Mael breathed in and out, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He regarded her seriously and calmly. "Then there is only one possible—"

_"Don't say it!"_

Tink cut him off with a sharp cry that was raw with emotion. Her eyes had snapped shut to prevent more tears to flow down her cheeks, and both of her hands were on either of her ears, ready to block out Mael's next words. She then kept shaking her head side-to-side, whimpering out the word, "No," again and again. She drew her knees up against her chest and buried her head between them, sobbing as she kept whimpering her mantra.

Mael's eyes softened with a sympathy that was reserved to those he knew personally. He knew Tink because they grew up in the same neighborhood and because he had taken care of her as a kid. That being said, he also knew Peter Pan since the boy was a toddler, so knew how close the two siblings were. Mael allowed Tink to have her breakdown, not even minding that the soles of her shoes might dirty his chair.

"Don't you see, Mael?" Tink lifted her head to look at him, sniffling. "Peter just can't be dead. That would mean that _it's_ starting up again, and we both know that it's over."

His eyes hardened. "Just because a child disappears doesn't mean that it's started again."

She scoffed, "Oh, yeah. That could be true in other towns, but not ours." Her eyes narrowed, misting over with a far off memory. "In Fantasia, no one feels safe anymore, even if it is over. No matter how hard our mayor tries, this town's dark past will never be erased."

Mael stood up and walked over to the door to his office, gesturing to it. "We will do what we can to find your brother Tink, so don't give up on us yet. Have a nice day."

Bitterly, Tinkerbell Pan got up and walked to the door. Before stepping out of Mael's office, she turned around and regarded him with determined eyes.

"I'll get you a witness, so don't think of him as being dead," she said. "I refuse to even consider that he's dead—not without a body. So don't you dare count him out yet."

Though he already doubted the boy being alive, Mael nodded his head and tipped his cap as Tink walked out. When he closed the door, he took a deep breath and sighed. Tired, he sat in his chair and put a hand over his eyes, lightly massaging the faint ache that was in the area. He shouldn't feel like this—like an old man. He was only twenty-six for God's sake.

He removed his hand and found his eyes going back to the picture of local pre-teen and troublemaker (all right, so he was only a minor troublemaker—nothing serious), Peter Pan. It truly was a curse to live in a small town, because one truly did know everyone. When living in a place like Fantasia, especially in cases like this one, one is reminded of how much is taken for granted. One minute, that baker you saw last week was where he always was, and the next week his corpse is found in a ditch. The same goes for teachers, friends, neighborhood children…

Mael turned around in his chair so he was facing his shaded window. He lifted one of the flaps of the shade and looked out at his beloved hometown. It was a beautiful day out—the perfect spring weather. People were greeting each other with smiles and laughter, and children were playing innocent games. Fantasia looked like the perfect get away from urban life.

The thought that somewhere, probably by the mountains, in the forest, a young boy was missing, made Mael feel uneasy and guilty. Tinkerbell's words came up in his mind, haunting him:

"Peter just can't be dead. That would mean that it's starting up again…"

Mael suddenly got the urge to go get a cup of coffee. Black and decaf, preferably.

* * *

"Wow, look at this place Lady!" Belle exclaimed softly as she observed the town from the Fantasia train station. "Doesn't it look beautiful?"

From inside her carrier, Lady whined. She didn't like being in closed spaces. She preferred the outside, where she could feel the ground beneath her paws.

Belle quickly realized this and unzipped Lady's prison. She crouched down on the ground so her dog could walk out. Lady zipped out of her carrier and shook herself, looking happy. She barked up at Belle gratefully, wagging her small tail.

"That's better isn't it," Belle chuckled as she clipped the dog's leash on her collar. She stood upright, holding onto her bags, and looked around the slightly crowded train station. "Now, let's go find Mayor Cogsworth. He said he would meet us here and take us to our home away from home."

She turned her head side to side until she saw a man in a suit holding a sign with her name on it. He was stout and had a very funny, thin mustache, but he looked like one who was very demanding and orderly. She walked up to him tentatively.

"Mr. Cogsworth?"

The man blinked. "Ms. Belle?"

Belle nodded, smiling slightly. Mayor Cogsworth also smiled and held out a hand in front of her. She gripped it and gave it a firm shake, her smile widening.

"Welcome to Fantasia, Ms. Belle," he said with a slight hint of an accent. "Now, I speak for everyone when I say that we are all very glad to have you here."

The way Cogsworth said it didn't sound like a miserly old man who just wanted tourism. Though he wanted some business for the town, it didn't seem like that was all that occupied his mind as a priority. That made Belle like him all the more.

"As am I, Mayor Cogsworth," she replied.

"Splendid! Now, shall we get you all settled?"

Belle nodded eagerly and followed Cogsworth outside, where his car was. It was a sleek, black Rolls Royce that had a leather interior. Cogsworth had offered to put her bags in the trunk, but Belle politely refused the gesture and put her bags in herself. As they started to enter the car, he eyed Lady with slight nervousness.

"It won't…shed, will it?" he asked, obviously trying not to show his dislike towards the animal.

Lady scowled, looking offended, while Belle blinked a little bemused. Then she smiled understandingly.

"Don't worry. Lady doesn't shed. And I'll keep her on my lap throughout the ride."

Cogsworth sighed, relieved. "That's good."

As the man drove her through the town, he spoke of Fantasia's various landmarks and shops. He also talked about the restaurants that were close by her rented house and of all the nice people within the neighborhood. He even mentioned a club where music of all genres was played and sung (Belle made a mental note to check it out later). However, Belle mostly blocked it all out, only listening to a few words and nodding at the right times. She kept looking out the passenger window, seeing all that the car drove past.

It really was a nice town. It had shops of all kinds—bakeries, silk, toys, jewelry and even one that sold books (Belle made another mental note to buy something from there; the shop looked gorgeous). In the town square was a brick mansion that had a clock at the center of its roof. According to Cogsworth, that was City Hall, where town meetings and discussions were held.

Then, as the Rolls Royce drove near the eastern part of town, she saw many beautiful houses—all Victorian style. There were even some homes that also served as a shop on the first floor. Surrounding the town were fields and mass acres of woods, and in the horizon there were several mountains whose peaks were topped with snowy white.

Yes, it really was a lovely place, Bell decided.

If she hadn't known anything prior to this, she would have denied the prospect of this place once being a home of a serial killer.

"Ah," Cogsworth cried, slowing down the car. "Here we are."

Belle blinked, coming back out of her musings. She looked out her window and saw a lovely Victorian style house that had a fresh, green lawn and a white picket fence that surrounded its area. In front of the windows were rows of dolls and other toys. Stroking Lady's back, Belle smiled as she saw the toys, but Cogsworth looked bewildered when he saw them.

He could have sworn that he…

Belle's eyes glittered as she stepped out of the car. "This looks beautiful Mayor Cogsworth."

Cogsworth, still a little confused (not to mention a little scared), smiled hesitantly. "I am glad you like it. I had it fixed for you just yesterday."

_So why are the toys still out? _He mentally questioned. _Does this mean everything else is there too…?_

Before he could muse on it further, Belle had put Lady down on the ground and gotten her things, carrying them up to the house's door. He blinked and quickly followed after her, already reaching inside his pocket to get out the key to the house. When he joined Belle on the porch, he smiled politely.

"Would you like me to show you around the house?"

Belle smiled kindly. "No, that's all right. Lady and I will be fine."

Cogsworth nodded in acceptance and bowed, and then he walked back to his car to drive off. Belle narrowed her eyes suspiciously, her mind racing. Was it just her, or did Cogsworth seem eager to get away from her?

Or was it away from the house?

Belle shrugged, shaking it off as unimportant. There really was no reason for one to fear a house, but whatever. It wasn't her business. As she opened the door, she tugged on Lady's leash and led the dog inside the house, not noticing how uneasy her dog looked.

Lady knew that something was inside this house, and she wasn't sure if she should be afraid or not. But if her human looked calm, then she decided she would remain calm also, at least until the _presence_ gave her a reason for her to act.

* * *

Cogsworth shakily ran a hand through his combed hair, his face pale and dripping with cold sweat. When he was about a mile away from _that house _he stopped the car and parked it on the side of the road. He shut his eyes, yet he still couldn't get that _image_ out of his mind.

Perhaps it was born from guilt? After all, the previous owner of that house had been a murderer—the man who was found out to be the ruthless killer of all those children from the Fantasia Murder Case, in fact. Sure, Cogsworth felt guilty of renting _that_ house to the young woman, but it had to be done. The whole point of this new tourism movement was to urge his town to move on from the past and face a happier future. There were many people, mostly parents, who dwelled on the horrible child murders, and they were absolutely miserable. To give this town some new life would do it some good.

Besides, what Belle didn't know wouldn't hurt her. At least Cogsworth hoped that it wouldn't. She seemed like such a nice girl. And that probably added more to the guilt that had caused that _image_ in the first place.

Then again, what if it wasn't guilt? Stories about that house had accumulated over the past seven years or so. What if those stories were true…?

_No_, Cogsworth shook his head, his eyes narrowing with determination. He was a rational man—probably _too_ rational, in some people's opinions. He didn't believe in ghost stories and he refused to start doing so now.

So, with the vain comfort of his rationalizing, Cogsworth drove back to his office to finish some paperwork. He smiled and looked at ease at the wheel of his Rolls Royce, but that only concealed his inner conflict.

For he still couldn't get that _image_…

_(of a clearly familiar little boy—_**who should not be there!**_—in the house's attic, which Cogsworth knew would have been locked, staring out the window and looking down into his eyes with such a sad, pleading expression)_

…out of his head.

* * *

*According to this website I went on, the name "Mael" is French for "beast". I thought that since the Beast isn't really given a name (or at least I haven't heard his real name), then this would probably suit him. His last name is just something I made up.

Anyway, the point is, yes—Mael Claude is The Beast, and he will be paired with Belle, just because I love this Disney couple so much.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The House**

A bell rang above her head when she opened the door. When she saw inside, Belle blinked in stunned bemusement. Lady peaked inside and tilted her head, also looking a little stunned.

The first thing Belle noticed were the clocks. There must have been over thirty kinds of clocks hanging on the walls and standing on the many shelves. Grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, cat clocks which had tails that swayed side-to-side with each tick, clocks that were shaped like castles and houses, whose residents consisted of a male and female doll that would kiss each hour, and many more. But not only were there clocks. There were also toys of all kinds. Teddy bears, dolls, dollhouses, train sets, toy cats, dogs and other animals, etc.

The toys and clocks were all clean and lovely looking, but, strangely enough, what really held Belle's attention were the _marionettes_.

They might have been handmade, but they looked so beautiful. There were puppets from different time periods and countries, with clothes to match the presumed setting. Their faces all had flush painted cheeks, eternal smiles, and glossy eyeballs of all colors. The puppets were put on top of shelves, and hung on walls by their strings.

When Belle walked inside the house, she noticed a counter, which had an old, black cash register on it, near the door. She blinked at it for a few minutes, and then observed the toys, clocks and marionettes again. From what she could presume, it looked like a toy shop slash home. Yet, not only did it look like it was a toy shop, but an _active_ toy shop. It would have been normal if there were at least some dust, or some sign of age and neglect, but there wasn't. The place was clean, as if someone was here everyday, cleaning the place up and making sure it made a good impression on visitors.

It was really eerie, at least to Belle. The image of someone already being here, yet not making their presence known sent shivers down her spine. She shouldn't be here if there was already someone else who resided here. But that didn't really match up either. According to Mayor Cogsworth, no one else was supposed to be living here.

So...why did it _look_ that way?

Beside her, at her feet, Lady looked warily around the shop. Being a dog, she could see and hear things that Belle, an average human, couldn't (or shouldn't). Currently, though it was silent to Belle's ears, Lady could hear faint sounds of something that was either a threat, or not a threat.

All of a sudden, the room seemed to drop a few degrees, feeling almost winter-like, and Belle started to feel a little uneasy, as if she and Lady weren't alone. An icy chill ran from the base of Belle's spin, all the way up to her neck, which was dampening with a cold sweat that resulted from frazzled nerves.

_...Or was it from that odd burn of someone's eyes watching you intently?_

Belle's heart jumped when she heard a slight movement of wood on her left, and she whipped her head to look at the source of the sound. Lady followed the movement, her eyes narrowed and a low warning growl escaped her throat. Her haunches were raised and her legs tensed, waiting to pounce on the potential threat and attack.

Belle, on the other hand, looked relieved, for she only saw a lone puppet sitting on a top shelf. It was a puppet of a little boy with black hair, a wooden nose, dimpled cheeks and wide, glossy blue eyes...

**...Which were staring straight at her...!**

She shook her head and looked up at the puppet again, swallowing with some nervousness. There was no way that could be possible. It was just the paranoia of her being in a new house, that's all. As she looked at the puppet now, she saw that everything about it was completely normal.

Unfortunately, that wasn't what Lady saw...

The dog continued to glare up at the puppet boy and growl fiercely at it. Belle quirked an eyebrow at the behavior, but figured it must have been nerves as well. After one last glance at the puppet, Belle finally turned away from it and saw a door in the back of the toy shop. She had a feeling that it would lead to her to the residency part of the shop.

"Well," she said, being unnecessarily loud. "Let's go make ourselves at home at our home-away-from-home."

She walked to the door, gently pulling Lady to follow her. Lady hesitantly obeyed, allowing herself to take her eyes off the particular puppet she'd been having a staring contest with.

As they walked away, neither Belle nor Lady noticed that those same eyes followed their movement, with an expression that could only best be described as curiosity...

* * *

As he opened the door, he was immediately greeted with a blanket of icy cold air.

But he didn't mind. The cold had no negative effect on him. Actually, he could say that he joyfully welcomed the cold, for it was much more useful than warmth. When it was warm, a fresh corpse would rot an bloat up faster, quickly losing it's lovely post-mortem glow, and gaining that customary rank stench that is associated with decaying corpses.

However, when it is cold a body can stay as nice as it looked when it had first died.

He knew _that_ particular joy all too well.

With a wide, almost giddy grin, he walked to where his lovely new toy was.

The boy was currently hanging by his neck on a meat hook from the ceiling. His blood had long frozen and coagulated on his frozen, young, _dead_ body. His head had lolled forward, his red hair covering his frozen face of death.

The murderer smiled, almost tenderly, as he gently cupped the dead boy's chin and lifted it so he could stare into those eyes, those lovely green eyes that were now as blank and glassy as a doll's....

He had been a fighter, but he had gone down like his predecessors, as to be expected. Still, breaking him had been much more work than the murderer expected. In his opinion, those two weeks and two days of torturing the child had been _too_ long for comfort. Though the breaking and killing was as sweet of a taste as it had always been, the experience had served to remind the murderer that he was ten years out of practice.

The blame also laid with the child, the murderer had concluded. The boy had been too stubborn, too cocky to show his fear. He had fixed that though, the murderer reminded himself. Like the children before him, the boy had been broken, both mentally and physically. It just took longer to do than the killer expected.

The next one would be easier, but oh so satisfying.

Oh, _yes_...

But before that, he'd have to make room for the new target.

The murderer took out the huge black plastic bag he was carrying, and put it on the metal table in the middle of the cold room. He grasped the corpse gently, removed the corpse from the hook and gently slid it inside the bag, which was luckily big enough to be longer than the boy's height.

As he slung the corpse over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the murderer walked out of the room and slammed the steel door, punching in the security code. Then he proceeded to walk down to his basement, humming a cheerful tune.

It was time to let everyone in Fantasia know that his decade long hiatus was over.

* * *

Belle was in her new bedroom when she heard the front doorbell ring. She had just been unpacking her things, but stopped when she realized that someone was waiting for her to open the door. She walked back down the stairs to the shop and opened the door.

Standing there was a woman who looked like she was in her early thirties, who had crossed her arms and was looking to the side, looking impatient. She had a heart shaped face, ruby red lips and sultry, cat-like violet eyes. Her long brown hair was tied into a high ponytail and her bangs shadowed a side of her face. Though she was thin, she had an hourglass figure that was shown more with her tight, purple blouse and denim jeans.

Belle blinked when the woman didn't notice her. She looked annoyed, if that look in her dazed eyes was anything to go by. The last thing Belle wanted to do was annoy someone, but she took it upon herself to be the first of the two of them to speak.

"Uh...hi?"

The woman turned around and saw her, then smiled at Belle awkwardly. "Hi, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. So...welcome!"

She waved at Belle, her smile strained. Belle returned the smile, though her's was also a little awkward. The woman was obviously not a people person, at least when it came to new people, and Belle understood that, so she didn't take any offense.

The woman faltered when she noticed the awkwardness between the two of them, and sighed.

"Okay, look little missy," she said in a demanding tone. "I am _not_ a people person, but the mayor actually asked me to give you a more in depth tour through our joyful little town. You know, show you the sights, the people, the places, yadda, yadda, yadda...You with me so far?"

Belle nodded politely.

The woman clapped, smiling broadly, her voice tinted with something akin to sarcasm. "Great! Fan_tastic_! Okay, so the point I'm getting to is that I'm not exactly Ms. Friendly, so if I seem a little...obnoxious, then I apologize in advance."

"It's okay," Belle replied.

The woman nodded and reached her hand out for Belle to shake, which she did, grasping the woman's hand firmly.

"Name's Megara," she winked. "But my friends call me Meg…or at least they would, if I _had_ any friends."

Though Belle wasn't completely sure if the last part was serious or not, so she did her best to suppress the chuckles that threatened to escape her mouth. There was something about Meg's deep, sly, sarcastic voice that made almost anything she said sound humorous.

She smiled genially. "I'm Belle, or Bells to my friends. Either way is fine with me."

Meg smiled tentatively, feeling a little happy that the "new girl" found her joke funny. If they actually got along in this little venture, then that would make this whole tour guide thing easier. So, she let out the breath she was holding and turned around, looking back at Belle over her shoulder.

"So, where would you like to go first?" she asked. "The music café? City Hall? A shop? Either way, you can be assured that any place we go to is bound to be fun and exciting."

Belle thought for a moment. She _did_ want to check out that bookshop she had seen on the way to the house, but then she was begrudgingly reminded that she was here on a mission. She had to get information on this child murder case. Her very career was depending on this!

Well, okay, perhaps not so much her career. More like her need to get rid of the monotony of romance novels.

But here raises a question: how was she going to get information on the case? Belle supposed she could search the library for news clippings and such, but the case wasn't that old, so she could actually hear about it from people who had lived in this town while the murders happened. The problem was how to voice the question, or how to find a person willing to discuss the case. A policeman might not want to dig up details on a case that was a good twenty odd years old. And many townspeople might want to avoid the subject, for obvious reasons.

Still, Belle thought she had to at least try.

The question was, where?

Belle thought for a few moments, and then smiled when she came up with an idea. It was odd how it popped up there, like someone shoved it in there, but the urge was very strong. Belle knew that she had to go there.

"How about that café you mentioned?"

Meg quirked an eyebrow and smirked, putting her fists on her hips. "A singer, huh?"

"Not really, but a friend of mine is," she shrugged. "I'm just an average music lover."

"Alright, the café it is," Meg nodded, satisfied and gestured to her purple Corvette, which was parked across from the house. "Let's get going."

Belle immediately followed.

* * *

_He stood in front of the attic window, watching both her and Meg interact. He blinked his eyes, feeling more and more curious about the stranger._

_He couldn't help but feel that there was something about her._

_He could hear her dog downstairs, pacing and whining. He knew that it wasn't hurt, or hungry. It was worrying about him and what he was, what he could do to her master._

_Not that there was anything to fear about him, he knew. He was just curious, that's all._

_He jumped up onto the windowsill so he could get a better view of the stranger, (Belle was her name, wasn't it…?) and stared down at her as she followed Meg to her car. He hummed softly to himself, cupping his chin thoughtfully._

_Could it be that she is…?_

_When he saw that she was gone, he jumped down from the window and smiled, despite himself. He felt that familiar rush of hope swell within him, making him almost feel alive again. He knew that it was probably too soon to expect the un-expectable, but he couldn't suppress it. He put his hands behind his back, cupping them over each other, and started skipping around the attic room, taking care not to make too much noise. That would just panic the dog._

_Instead, he started to hum a familiar, childhood tune as he skipped around the room. Soon the humming became words, though they were sung in a soft voice, following the lighthearted melody._

"When you wish upon a star…

"Makes no difference who you are…"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The Story**

Though many people might think otherwise, Lampwick valued his life. Sure he was a chain smoker, a drinker, and even a dabbler in some drugs, but he was in no rush to die. It was why he was such a sneaky bastard after all. His bad habits didn't make his mother proud, but they were the best way for him to survive.

Well, sometimes. There were moments when being slick and sly just didn't make the cut, and one had to show the cowardly side that they spent so much time trying to mask. Granted, it was humiliating, but at least one lived to fight another day, even if it was a coward's life.

Lampy was easily reminded of this when he found himself shoved against the alley wall with bruising force. Groaning, he shook his head and made the mistake of looking up at his abuser, who glared back down at him with eyes icier than the weather in Antarctica. He immediately gulped and tried to crawl out onto the streets again, where, though the evening was drawing near, there were at least some people around. There was no way his attacker would continue this abuse in front of the pure and lighthearted denizens of Fantasia.

Unfortunately, he was proven wrong when he felt his attacker grab the collar of his shirt, roughly lift him up at least a few inches into the air, and slam him against the wall, pinning him there. Lampwick had kept his eyes snapped shut through the ordeal, fearing the worst, but he tentatively opened them after a few moments of a cold silence from his attacker. Sweating profusely, he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and shakily smiled at the person, revealing huge buckteeth.

"T-Tink, _sweetheart_," he stammered, tipping his hat. "W-w-when'd you get back…?"

Tinkerbell's eyes blazed, and commanded, "Tell me where he is Lampwick."

Lampwick nervously tugged on his shirt collar. "Who do you mean…?"

_That_ was a mistake.

With a growl, Tink grasped his collar and banged his head against the brick wall, making Lampwick cry out in pain. It wasn't hard enough to make his head bleed, but it was hard enough to make him realize that the young woman was not playing around. Nope, not at _all_.

"Look, Tink I can't answer if you keep banging my head like that," Lampy said meekly.

Tink ignored him and leaned her face into his, glaring into his eyes. "Where's Peter? And you better not lie."

Lampwick's eyes widened slightly with understanding. "Pete's missing?"

"Yeah," she replied sullenly, but then glared at him. "Listen, trash. I know that you hang around my brother, so if you have him twisted into one of your little schemes—"

"Now hang on a minute," Lampy protested. "I may be trash, but I'd never drag someone like Pete to my level."

_Especially_ not Peter Pan. You'd have to be a goddamned fool to risk Tinkerbell's wrath. And Lampwick was many things, but he was not a fool, (well not a complete one, anyway).

Tink seemed to consider what Lampwick said, but her glare didn't waver. "That may be so, Lampy, but everyone who comes in contact gets poisoned in one way or another. Always has been that way."

Lampwick cringed slightly at that. He knew what she meant, and he knew that she had said it with the intent to hurt him. Everyone in town knew his mistake ten years prior, when he had left his friend alone in the forest. It was done with the innocent intent to scare the little boy, but little did Lampy know that his little friend ran into more trouble than he expected. And that trouble had a name among the children at the time:

The monster of Fantasia—Monstro.

Because how else can a child describe the one who took children away from their homes at night? They only had a vague idea about the murders. None of the adults, or parents would say anything except, "It's nothing to worry about, just don't stay out too late," or better yet, "No, you are not allowed to go out anymore". So, the children had to make up their own tales about the person—or thing, in their minds, who took away children. And that entailed giving it a name, one that made chills go up the spine whenever the name was mentioned: _Monstro_.

Many of the tales children whispered was one that involved Monstro dragging children into Fantasia's forest with his huge claws, all the way into a cave to be eaten. Since he was about twelve, and felt like he knew everything, Lampwick was certain that that particular tale wasn't true.

But his younger friend hadn't known that.

Lampy snapped his eyes closed. His breathing turned into harsh pants as tears threatened to break through his eyelids. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the image of a little boy smiling up at him.

So young…

So innocent…

So _fucking_ _trusting…_

_**Jackass!**_

…_**Your fault!**_

_**It's **_**your**_** fault he's dead!**_

No, he was never supposed to get hurt…!

It was a prank, an innocent joke…

…That quickly went wrong…

Lampwick twitched, still being held by Tink. He needed a drink, badly. Or a good old shoot up of heroin. Doing that _always_ made him feel better. It made his senses dull and his brain get muddled; easily avoiding thoughts of a certain little boy and the mistake Lampwick had made that cost the kid his life.

Once he got himself together, he slowly opened his eyes to look down at Tinkerbell. Whether she looked satisfied or guilty with reminding him of his mistake, Lampwick didn't know. Her face was unreadable of everything but determination. All she wanted was to find her brother.

He let out a breath and looked down at her firmly. "Tink, I don't know where Peter is."

Tink looked like she believed him, but she narrowed her eyes more. "You're sure?" she asked firmly.

"I swear on Pinocchio's grave."

She blinked, and then nodded, looking satisfied. She knew him well enough to tell that he was telling the truth. Tink gently lowered him back down to the ground and released him, walking a few steps away. Once Lampwick smoothed out his stretched shirt, Tinkerbell looked up at him with an unreadable expression. He stared back at her, wondering what she was going to say.

"Sorry," she said softly.

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for beating him up, or putting him through a guilt trip, but Lampwick shrugged anyway, silently accepting her apology. He wasn't really the grudge holding type.

"Hope you find him," he said, sincerity lacing his voice. The last thing this town needed was a missing kid.

Tink nodded a thanks to him, and then walked out of the alley. Lampwick blinked as he watched her walk away until she was just another face among the people on the streets of Fantasia. Then he reached inside his pocket, took out a cigarette, quickly lighting it with expertise, and inhaled its soothing chemicals. Finally, he shoved his fists in his jean pockets and walked out of the alley, quickly scoping all that he could see. His eyes brightened when they found a nearby bar, and he started for it, smiling and looking like he had no care in the world.

It was time for that drink.

* * *

Belle gaped. "Whoa…"

Beside her, Meg grinned. "Yeah, I know."

The inside of the "Fun 'N Fancy Free" café was almost big enough to fit nearly the entire town. The lights were dim, but it seemed to set the mood perfectly. The floorboards were a lovely amber brown, sleek and clean. The stage was half the size as any Broadway stage; it had a soft, red velvet curtain that had the gold letters "J.C." embroidered into it. On one side of the stage was a sleek, black piano where a weary looking man was playing. At his side there were also men playing other instruments, such as guitars, cellos and violas. On the other side was an African American woman singing in her microphone, swaying to a jazz melody.

At the foot of the stage were the many sets of tables. They were each round like a perfect circle and had four velvet, cushioned chairs set around them. On top of each table was a lit candle that gave off different scents and set the mood as the song reached its peak. On the left side of the room was a bar that served drinks.

The place was beautiful, but what really held Belle's attention was the music. It was soothing to the ears and on the soul. The type of music that Ariel would turn to mush over. Belle especially liked the piano playing. The man moved his fingers over the keys with the expertise of a genius, at least in Belle's mind.

"Like it?" Meg asked her as they sat down near the stage.

Speechless, Belle nodded. "It's great. All of it. Are they the only band?" she gestured at the stage.

Meg shook her head, her eyes gazing up at the stage. "Oh no, well at least not the singer. She's a newcomer, her name's Tiana*," she nodded at the men playing the instruments. "They are always here though. I don't really know the others very well, but the man on the piano goes by the name of Jiminy Cricket."

Belle quirked an eyebrow in bemusement when she heard the name. Meg caught her confused gaze and laughed good heartedly.

"Yeah, I know. Odd, right? But he's a great guy; even if can be a little sullen once in a while. He actually owns this place, by the way."

"Oh," Belle mouthed. That certainly explained the initials on the curtains. She turned her head back to the stage and took the time to actually look at the man.

Though his piano playing was superb and lively, the man looked the complete opposite. He must have been about fifty, more or less. His skin was pale and sallow, indicating he never went out much. His head was balding, with only a layer of graying hair left on either side of his head. He wore a worn out suit, which had a black jacket with long tailcoats, a black top hat that was resting on the piano, waiting to be put on again, and fingerless gloves over his hands. His dark brown eyes followed the notes of the music he was playing, but they showed listlessness and indifference throughout it all. It was almost as if he were lifeless.

For some reason, it made Belle sad that someone like him looked that way. There was something about him that reminded her of her father, an old inventor who was retired, and he was the happiest man Belle had ever known. Something must have happened to make him numb to the rest of the world.

It was really none of her business, she knew, yet she found herself asking anyway, "Is he okay?"

Meg followed her gaze and it softened somewhat in a bit of a revelation. "I don't know," she said softly. "I haven't really lived here that long, so I don't really know these people that well. Jiminy has his down moments, but I've never seen him this down before."

Belle hummed and hesitated before asking. Most likely Meg wouldn't really know about the Fantasia murders, if what she said about not living there long were true. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask, right? Belle certainly hoped that it wouldn't hurt.

"So, if you haven't really lived here that long," Belle asked gently, "would that mean that you wouldn't know about the murders that happened here ten years ago?"

Meg blinked at Belle and her mood seemed to dampen slightly. Her eyes shifted to the side, and back to Belle.

"Yeah, I honestly don't know the details about it. I only know the basics about it. Are you a reporter or something? Is that why you ask?" she added, judgment void from her voice.

"A writer, actually," Belle answered sheepishly. "I'm doing research for my next book."

Meg quirked an eyebrow, and then her face lit up with recognition. "I thought your face looked familiar! I've read one of your books—_Rose Petals_, I think it was?"

Belle smiled humbly. "My first one."

"I thought it was pretty good, you know for a romance novel. Usually, I'm not too crazy over those books…. Didn't you write another one after that?"

She nodded. "But this time I wanted to do something…different."

Once again, Meg quirked an eyebrow. "I think I understand, but…dead children? Really? No offense, but you don't look the type to write that kind of stuff."

Belle laughed, "So I've been told. But I really wanted to try horror out—try to write something dark, yet realistic."

Her companion kept her eyebrow quirked, but then she shrugged. "Heh, whatever you want. But, if you need to ask around, then I suggest that you start with Jim over there," she added, pointing to the bar with her thumb.

Belle followed where Meg was pointing and saw an adult African American man serving drinks with a friendly grin, a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. She looked back at Meg for reassurance, to which Meg gave a small smile and nodded. Feeling more confident, Belle stood up from her chair and walked over to the man called Jim Dandy.

Meg watched her go, frowning slightly. She wasn't really sure if sending Belle off to ask about the Fantasia murders was a good idea or not. People were still sensitive about it, especially the parents of the dead children. She had once asked about it in front of Jiminy Cricket, her question having to do with the man who had been arrested for the crimes, and Mr. Cricket had actually gone from being jolly to snapping at her, telling her that she didn't know everything. She even talked about it in front of one of the mothers of the killed boys. That was the official last time Meg ever asked about the murders.

Hopefully Belle wouldn't run into that problem. The last thing she wanted for the young woman was for her to be run out of town by an angry mob. She certainly wouldn't with Jim Dandy. He was one of the friendliest guys in this town. But Meg couldn't really tell with the rest of the town.

"Hey Meg," a friendly male voice broke her out of her reverie.

She looked up and saw a familiar man about her age, dressed up in a waiter's uniform. He had broad shoulders, a well-chiseled face, short orange hair and a pair of beautiful blue eyes. He was stronger than the average male, handsome enough to be lusted after by millions of women (and some men, perhaps) and desired enough to be the envy of every male in the world. Yet, despite all this, he was truly a nice guy and surprisingly shy.

Meg smirked playfully at him, though with affection in her eyes. "Well, well, Herc. How are you?"

Hercules flushed slightly, yet shrugged. "Just working. You?"

"Babysitting," Meg said, gesturing towards Belle, who was currently talking to Jim. "See that girl over there? She's the one I had to guide around town today."

Herc hummed and looked down at Meg curiously. "She's the one who rented out Geppetto's home?"

She nodded, leaning her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in her palm, still gazing at Belle. Herc followed her gaze and also got lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

Belle approached the bar, politely raising a hand at Jim. "Um, excuse me?"

Jim noticed her and smiled jovially at her. "What can I get you, miss?"

She thought for a few minutes, and then thought it would be better to start this off by ordering a drink.

"Do you have any Shirley Temples**?" she asked.

He turned his back to look at the shelves of drinks. "Virgin, or alcohol?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Alcohol," she answered with certainty.

Jim Dandy nodded and proceeded to pouring her drink. Meanwhile, Belle observed him. He looked to be about Jiminy's age, if not younger. He certainly looked younger, and happier. His chocolate brown face was smooth of any wrinkles and frown lines, and he always seemed to be smiling. He wore a blue and white striped t-shirt, a vest, a pair of blue jeans and a small hat that topped his bald looking head.

He smiled at her and gave her the drink. "There you go."

"Thank you," Belle said as she paid him and sat at one of the bar stools. She took a few sips of her drink, and then looked at him awkwardly.

"Excuse me, but is it okay if I ask you some questions?" she said timidly.

He didn't regard her with much hostility, but Jim looked at her a little warily. "Depends. About what?"

She lowered her voice, "About the Fantasia child murders?"

"…Why would you be interested in _that_?" His voice was laced with genuine shock.

Belle fidgeted in her seat. "I'm doing research for a book I'm writing," she admitted, realizing how lame that might sound.

The man hummed into his cigarette, and then nodded. He took out his cancer stick, snuffed it against a nearby ashtray, and then threw it out in a wastebasket. He regarded Belle with seriousness, a contradiction of his earlier mood. He leaned back against the shelf and crossed his arms around his chest.

"All right, ask away," he said.

Belle got out a small notebook she had kept in her coat pocket, as well as a pen. She quickly opened it to an empty page and regarded him with the same seriousness.

"When did the disappearances start?"

Jim thought for a moment. "About 1986," he nodded. "Yeah, that's right; 1986, in July. That was when Snow disappeared."

Belle paused in writing down what he said. She quirked an eyebrow. "Snow?"

He nodded solemnly. "That was the name of his first victim. Snow White; sweet little girl, only about six years old. She was considered missing for a month until her mutilated body was found in the woods. The incident shook the whole town." He shuddered uncomfortably at the memory of reading the article that told of her being found.

Belle took notice of his discomfort. "You don't have to tell me about the victims if you want. I just need the basics."

Jim nodded, grateful. "It went on for twelve years, at least that's the official number for it. Sometimes there was a 'break' for a couple of years until he started killing again. The murders mostly took place during the winter and the summer, on days as lovely and warm as today. It went on until ten years ago, when the police finally caught the man who committed the crimes," he hesitated, "At least that's what they say."

"What do you mean by that?" Belle asked slowly. "He _was_ caught, wasn't he?"

He snorted. "Yeah, they _caught_ him all right. The only problem is that I think they caught the wrong man."

She leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Really?"

"Yeah. Geppetto was a kind man, one of the kindest in our entire town. But that's not the only reason. He lived here all his life. By the time the murders started, he was already in his fifties. If he was so sick and insane, like the police said, then why did he wait so long in his life to start killing?

"And he loved children more than anything. He made _toys_, for the love of God! He had a wife, with whom he tried to have children with, but she had died five years before the murders started. Even so, I knew he wanted a child badly—it wasn't new in town. And thirteen years ago, he finally earned enough to adopt a child—a five year old by the name of Pinocchio. For three years he took care of that child, being the best father he could try to be. He loved that child more than anything."

Jim paused, staring at Belle in the eye with serious regard. Belle found herself shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. Yet she continued to listen to him when he began to speak again.

"Don't you think it odd that that very same loving man, who loved a child like he was his own, would kill the very same child he had worked so hard to adopt?"

Belle blinked, taken aback. She lowered her head and thought about his question, though she knew it was rhetorical. From the way he sounded, it _was _odd for such a man to kill his son. It didn't really make any sense. But wasn't that how it always is? A man is caught to be a serial killer and everyone who knows him protest of his guilt, talking about how nice he was. Someone so nice couldn't possibly be a killer.

That was the naïve aspect of it all.

Yet, when Belle observed Jim Dandy's face once more, she felt herself waver.

Was it really naïveté…?

Jim inhaled a deep breath, and then exhaled it, feeling himself calm down a little. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

"The point is that they got the wrong man," he added softly, yet with bitterness. "And they will never find out how wrong they are."

She swallowed uncertainly. Does she want to know...? "Why do you say that?"

"Because Geppetto died last year."

* * *

*Tiana is the newest Disney princess to be seen in "The Princess and the Frog".

**I'm not sure if Shirley Temples come with alcohol, but if they don't, then they will just in my story.


	6. Chapter 5

**Note: Right, this is where everything starts to get weird, because here enters the ghost children. Well, at least one ghost child in this chapter. Not only might this chapter be weird, but it might also be a little confusing. **

**Chapter 5: The Boy**

As he walked down the streets of Fantasia, he took the time to observe the people that passed him. They were all smiles and chattering away, blissfully oblivious to what had occurred. He smirked maliciously to himself.

Those blind fools.

It was just hours ago that he had dumped his treasure in his old spot, in the woods. Most likely, the body would be discovered until at least a month—then again, maybe never. The murderer's old spot hadn't been touched in ten years, ever since he got that stooge of a toy maker to take the fall. He guessed that the people had been too afraid to go there, especially the children. Even though he had taken his break at Geppetto's arrest, older children still passed down the whispered tales of "Monstro," as they had secretly dubbed him.

He chuckled slightly as he thought of Geppetto. He had felt slightly guilty sure, but it still gave him amusement to this day. The prosecution of the toy maker just showed how desperate this town could get when one teared down their walls of security. It showed how easily manipulated they could be—and he thrived on playing with people's lives.

He wondered if he would be able to find as easy of a scapegoat this time.

Smiling, the murderer continued on his way, whistling the tune one of his victims sang as he died…

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Belle sat up from where she was laying in the backseat and regarded Meg with a weary smile. Her head was pounding and her stomach was twisting up, making some sour bile rise in her throat, but Belle didn't need to have Meg know that.

"I'll be fine," she replied softly, although she wasn't really sure. She drank more Shirley Temples than she expected, and now she was feeling the consequences.

Hercules, who was in the passenger seat of Meg's car, looked at her over his seat. His blue eyes gleamed with concern.

"If you want, we can take you to the pharmacy for some painkillers," he said. "Seems like you're going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning."

Belle smiled at him. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine, really. I just need some sleep."

With that said, she opened her door and stepped out of the car. She moved in a slight wobble towards Meg's window and looked at the woman with a grateful smile.

"Thanks for tonight, Meg," she said.

Meg smiled back. "No prob, Bells. If you need anything, feel free to call me." The two women had exchanged cell phone numbers before they left the café.

Belle nodded and gave both Meg and Hercules a small wave as the car drove off. The couple in the car waved back at her as they disappeared over the hill.

Hercules turned to Meg, quirking an eyebrow. "Should we have told her whose house that was?"

Meg shrugged. "Should we have?"

"I don't know," he responded slowly.

"She'll probably figure it out," she mused out loud. "I mean, she looks smart enough to make the connections herself."

Hercules thought for a couple of moments, and then hummed. "You're probably right."

Meanwhile, Belle watched Meg's car until it was a blur on the road, and then she started walking towards the house, trying not to lose her balance. She wasn't completely drunk, just a little tipsy. Still, it was enough to make her fall.

As she walked, she felt the weight of her little notebook in her pocket, and was once again solemnly reminded why she had drank much more than she could handle just a few hours ago. Belle was a little winded by the details Jim Dandy had given her about the child murders. He didn't have details as to how they were killed—only the police had those, according to him—but he did tell her the details that were covered in the newspapers. They were similar details to what Ariel had previously told Belle, but to hear it from someone who actually lived through the situation was eerily different.

So different that Belle felt some chills go up her spine.

She sighed as she opened the door. She passed the toyshop—her brain too muddled to stop and contemplate on a possible connection between Geppetto and the toyshop—and quickly headed upstairs, to the "home" part of the house. It was kind of like an apartment, only it had two more floors to it, the second containing the bedrooms and the third, the attic. The first floor, above the toy shop, had a kitchen and living room set.

Belle headed to the next collection of steps to get to the second floor, and walked straight to her bedroom to collapse on the bed. Once she did, her eyes immediately closed and she fell into a deep sleep, curling up on the bed.

She didn't notice that Lady was sitting outside in the hall, right in front of the stairway leading to the attic. Though no noise escaped from the other side of the door, Lady continued to growl lowly at the _presence_ she knew was there.

And on the other side, a little boy was sitting down in front of a clock and waiting, like he did every night.

* * *

In Belle's dream, she saw the inside of what looked like a dark cave. It was cold and moist, with water dripping from stalagmites on the ceiling. From behind her, she could see some of the moonlight seeping inside, but she continued to move forward, towards the darkness.

Suddenly, the silence inside the cave gave way to many sounds of screams and sobs.

The sounds of _children_…

So…_many_ children…

"_STOP IT! PLEASE, MISTER, _STOP_…!"_

_(Thump.)_

"_LET ME GO! STOP IT! I WANT TO GO HOME…! FATHER!"_

_(Thump.) _

"_MOMMEEEEE…!"_

_(Thump.)_

"_LET ME OUT! LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETME_OUT_!"_

The cries and screams were so many; they made Belle's head ache, as well as her heart. They were all sobbing out in pain and terror, those poor boys and girls.

The cries increased, all reaching a high pitch as dark, sadistic laughter, like that of a demon, joined in. It mocked them, laughed at the children who continued to cry for salvation, which they, sadly, didn't get.

Belle felt rage surge throughout her body. She thought she opened her mouth to join in the protests, even though she couldn't see what was being seen to the children.

Strangely enough though, Belle found she could also hear a faint "thump".

Then she felt something cold and wet poke her face, and then lick it.

…What?

The vision of that dark cave faded away, showing Belle only the dark image of the back of her eyelids. Since there was no light, Belle assumed that it was still nighttime. She must have been asleep for at least half an hour, at the most.

She moaned, feeling Lady lick her face with a frightening furor, and she turned her head. When she was facing the other side, Belle opened her eyes slowly, and wearily looked out the window.

Yeah, it was still late at night.

When she sensed her human was awake, Lady started barking. She hopped off the bed and ran to the other side, where Belle was facing. The dog jumped up and down, yipping away desperately.

Belle sat up and looked down at Lady drowsily. "What's wrong Lady?" she asked through a yawn.

But then she heard it, the sound somehow coming over Lady's barks.

_Thump._

_Thump._

A shudder quaked throughout Belle's body as her eyes warily shifted up towards the ceiling. Also hearing the sound, Lady shrank down on her feet, jumped up on Belle's lap, and started whimpering. Belle held her close to her body, gulping nervously in her throat as a revelation came to her.

_The attic._

_It's coming from the _attic_!_

She bit her lip, trying to gather her courage. How did someone get in the house? She's the only one who had the key, and she knew she had it with her, so it couldn't have been stolen. Could they have gotten inside the attic through the window? But how did they get so high…?

Either way, Belle knew that she'd never get answers if she stayed inside the bedroom. She took a deep breath and hardened her expression that didn't reveal her fear. She gently placed Lady on the bed as she got up and walked out the door. She quickly went downstairs to get a frying pan and returned to her bedroom. Belle looked at Lady firmly as she grabbed the key Cogsworth had given her.

"Lady, I'm going to go to the attic to check, okay? So, stay here until it's safe," she ordered.

Lady gaped slightly as she saw her human walk out to her possible doom. Then she jumped from the bed and followed her closely. There was no way Belle could handle the _presence_ on her own. If Belle was displeased with her disobeying, then she didn't show it.

The two of them, pet and master, walked down the dark hallway. Belle realized that she should have brought a flashlight with her, since she wasn't sure how to navigate the house in the dark yet. Luckily, Lady made herself walk ahead, leading Belle straight to the stairs to the attic.

When Lady led her to the stairs, Belle looked up at the attic door. The sounds from the other side hadn't stopped yet, but nobody stepped out. Belle released a held breath as she grasped her frying pan tighter in her hand. With a nod to Lady, she started her shaky ascend towards the attic. Feeling worry for Belle's safety, Lady followed her warily.

With each step Belle took, each stair gave a slight groan and creak. She guessed it was due to the age of the house. Still, despite the noise she was making, the noise in the attic didn't stop or waver. The person inside either didn't hear her coming, or they knew she was coming and/or didn't care to see her as a threat.

When she reached the landing, Belle licked her lips nervously, tightening her grip on her frying pan. Lady landed next to her, panting. She felt the temperature around Belle and her rise in their nervousness. They both at the door in front of them with fear. The door was made of mahogany wood, but its original luster had chipped with age. It had a carved ornate, cursive "P" in its center. The doorknob, once a sparkling molten gold, was now rusted and its gold painting chipped away.

Belle took the key out from her pocket and shakily inserted it into the lock on the door. As she chewed on her bottom lip nervously, she turned the key, faintly hearing the click of its mechanical working the lock loose.

Suddenly the sounds stopped.

Belle paused, wondering if she should push the door open or not. She glanced at Lady, who was growling lowly with her haunches raised, as if preparing to attack. In turn, Belle held her pan to her ear level and grasped it tightly. With a sharp exhale; she pushed the door open, bracing herself for an attack.

…Which didn't come.

Belle blinked her eyes once, then twice, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her. She looked at Lady, who kept her eyes staring straight, not really looking surprised, but very wary at what they were both seeing. Then Belle looked again.

The attic looked more like a bedroom—a room for a child, as a matter of fact. There was a soft looking bed on one side. It was still covered in blue and white sheets, with a thick blue and white squared quilt covering it all. On the headboard was an imitation of the carved "P" on the door.

Near the bed was a nightstand that had a lamp that featured characters from a certain CGI movie that featured talking toys. A few feet from the bed was a wooden drawer that was covered with handmade toys that were of the same quality as the toys in the shop, if not better.

And, in the center of the room, was a little boy who was bathed in the moonlight that seeped through a sky light on the ceiling.

He looked to be no more than eight years old, with black hair and blue eyes, almost like a slightly older version of that puppet Belle had seen in the shop—only this boy was wearing denim overalls, a checkered shirt and a pair of boots. He was looking at her over his shoulder, his expression blank as he blinked wide blue eyes. Belle was a little taken aback by the look in his eyes. It was almost as if…

Almost as if he had been expecting her.

Rather than being afraid, or startled, the boy sent her a calm smile.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice jovial.

"Uh, hi," Belle hesitated, lowering her pan and putting it on a nearby shelf. She must have looked like a crazy woman, holding it ready to attack. "Were you…the one making that noise?"

The little boy turned around, so his front was facing her, and nodded. His smile was still in place.

Belle felt relieved, but took note of Lady's slight hostility towards the boy. Animals sensed some things that humans couldn't. So, she forced herself to remain wary, even though she doubted a little boy could hurt her.

"What were you doing?"

The boy's smile widened. "Dancing."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Dancing…? But why…?"

As she trailed off, the boy tilted his head to the side, looking confused. His blue eyes stared straight at her, almost like he wanted to stare _through _her, it seemed. At least, that's how it felt to Belle.

"…Why so late?" Belle finished weakly.

…_And why _here_?_ She added softly in her mind. What was a little boy doing in the house she was staying at, and alone, to make matters stranger?

"Oh," the boy chirped, understanding. "I'm waiting."

"Waiting…? Waiting for what?"

"…Not, _what. Who_."

"Okay, waiting for who, then?"

His face brightened. "Oh, my best friend, Lampwick! He's supposed to come here, so he could take me to into the forest, where Monstro is supposed to live," he added, pointing outside the window in his room, toward the forest near the town.

Belle hummed and quirked an eyebrow. "Monstro? Never heard of it."

The boy's eyes widened, almost comically, in shock. "You've never heard of Monstro?!"

Belle shook her head, shrugging. "I just came into town today," she said, and suddenly realized something. "Hey, wait a minute, what are you _doing_ here?"

The boy's eyes blinked calmly, as if the anwser was obvious. "I _live_ here."

"Wait, how can you live _here_?" Belle asked. "Mr. Cogsworth told me that no one owned this house anymore."

The boy smiled gently. "Because he doesn't know I'm here, silly," he winked mischievously, putting a finger to his lips. "So don't tell him, okay?" he whispered.

"…Really?"

He nodded.

She quirked an eyebrow incredulously. The kid must either be playing a joke on her, or she had entered another drink induced dream. Either way, Belle decided to go along with it. After all, what harm can come from harmless pretend?

"Okay, I won't tell," she submitted. "But what are we going to do now?"

The boy beamed up at her. "I'm more than willing to share my house, so you can still stay here. I only ask that you keep the toys out. You know; the ones downstairs. Old Cogsworth always puts them in boxes, and it's always hard to put them back in their place."

Belle nodded, though she still thought it was a game. She walked up to him and crouched down to his level.

"So you're the one who put those toys down there," she said kindly. "You've been doing a good job at keeping them neat."

The boy flushed at the compliment, smiling sheepishly. "Aw, gee. It's not _that_ great. My father is the one who taught me to clean, so everything I know was from him."

"Your father must be very proud of you."

He froze at that statement. His eyes got wide, glossy and unseeing, and his entire body got tense. Belle frowned, knowing that she said the wrong thing, but not really knowing why he reacted that way. Gently, she put her hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his inner musings. He blinked at her with dull eyes, and then lowered his head.

"Sorry, it's just," he paused, his soft voice getting thick. Belle squeezed his shoulder encouragingly, not intending for him to finish the sentence, but for him to get enough strength to break him out of his rut. Still, he told her anyway.

"My father…he's dead."

Belle should have made the connection, and, had she been physically able, she could. There was a vague prickling in the back of her mind that told her to figure out the truth. But, whether it was due to the alcohol or her still feeling tired, Belle ended up ignoring that little prickling.

She bit her lip. "That must be hard for you. I know it would be if I lost my father at your age."

The boy looked at her, his eyes making him look older than his body showed. "Thank you," he said softly.

Belle nodded. "What's your name?" she asked gently.

"Pinocchio," he smiled. "What about you?"

"My name is Belle," she answered, and then nodded to Lady. "She's my dog, Lady."

"Belle. Lady," he repeated, and looked behind her, at the dog, which seemed to be glaring at him. "It's nice to meet you two."

Belle nodded, and waved Lady over. "C'mon girl, it's okay."

Lady glanced first at her human, then at the _presence_. Instinct told her to run, to be safe, but it also told her to stay by her friend at all times. In the end, the loyalty instinct won over the run one. She approached the two of them, keeping close to Belle. She looked up at Pinocchio, who looked back down at her with a smile. He lifted his hand, making Lady brace herself for the coming blow…

…Only to feel soft fingers stroke her furry head.

She looked up at the boy and felt a little calmer. Perhaps Lady was wrong. This _presence_ was certainly not human, not like Belle—but that didn't mean that it was dangerous to either her or Lady. The Cocker Spaniel whimpered in satisfaction and leaned into the boy's gentle pet.

Pinocchio smiled down at the dog, looking content. "She likes me. That's good," at Belle's confused face, he added, "I thought that she would maul me or something."

Belle smiled. "Lady is just worrisome and protective around strangers, so don't worry about it," with humor, she added, "Though she turns into a little chicken if you bring cats into a room."

Lady whined and glared weakly up at Belle. Pinocchio laughed, while patting her head comfortingly.

"That's too bad," he said. "I had a kitten once. Can you imagine the clash if these two ever met?"

"Dear, God, please let's not."

The boy and young woman laughed softly while Lady put her nose up in the air and strutted out of the room, her bushy little tail in the air. Pinocchio watched her, looking worried.

"Will she be okay?" he asked.

Belle waved her hand, flippantly saying, "She'll be fine. She can be such a drama queen sometimes."

Pinocchio hummed, looking satisfied with that. As he looked like he was zoning out, Belle couldn't help but observe him. Deep down she knew that she should have voiced how mature the kid was being, talking to her, but she pushed it aside. There was some mystery behind this child, and it would be a bore to get the answers so quickly without some sport in it.

Before she could further contemplate on him, she heard a clock in the room start going off. She looked towards where the sound came from and saw that it was a cuckoo clock that was marking the hour, which was eleven o' clock. Belle heard Pinocchio let out a soft gasp and she looked over at him.

"Sorry, Miss Belle, but I have to go," he said, his voice apologetic. He nodded towards the window. "Lampy's waiting for me."

"Oh, that's okay," she said gently. "We'll see each other some other time."

Pinocchio smiled and said cryptically, "Yes, we will."

Oblivious, Belle nodded and stood up. As Pinocchio made the sounds of getting ready to leave, she walked up to the window to look out it, just to make sure the person he was meeting was someone who seemed responsible. She didn't want to risk the chance of the kid getting hurt. After all, he was such a nice boy. But there was a tiny problem…

No one was out there.

"Uh, Pinocchio," she called, not turning around to face him. "I don't see anyone."

"Don't worry," he answered back faintly. "He's there."

Belle waited a few more minutes at the window, but no one showed up. She felt a slight ounce of pity for the boy. It seemed like he had been ditched. She turned around to, once again, to tell him that there was nobody there, but was shocked to see…

…He was gone.

"Pinocchio?" she called as she glanced around the room, only to find that it was empty. "Pinocchio!" she called again, a little worried.

He couldn't have gotten out of here that fast…

Could he…?

"Miss Belle!"

Belle froze, her eyes widening. She slowly turned around to face the window, where she heard Pinocchio's voice calling her—_from the outside_!

_How did he get out there so fast…?!_

She shakily looked out the window, seeing the boy on the grassy lawn, still alone, with no companion, Lampy or otherwise.

He smiled up at her and waved. "I'll be fine with Lampy, okay Miss Belle? So don't worry!"

_Who is Lampy?! His imaginary friend? Because there is no one out there_, Belle thought to herself. She broke from her musings when she realized that lone Pinocchio was skipping away from the house, going towards the forest, where he and "Lampy" were supposed to go.

"Pinocchio!" she called, a feeling of dread bubbling in her chest. It wasn't safe for a child to go out at night, even if the town was as nice as it looked. He could get hurt.

_That_, and she just had a really, really bad feeling.

"PINOCCHIO!"

The little boy either was too far away to hear her, or he decided to ignore her, because he didn't respond. Belle clenched her fists as she tried to think of what she should do. She wanted to follow the kid, just to make sure he didn't get hurt, but she was afraid. Who knows what could happen to either of them?

When he eventually became a speck in her eyes, Belle came to her decision. She quickly walked away from the window and rushed all the way down to the shop. She went into a closet and luckily fished out a flashlight. Then she ran out the door, running in the direction she saw Pinocchio go.

* * *


	7. Chapter 6

**Note: Okay, though I feel a little guilty as a Disney fan, I must say that I have been **_**waiting**_** to type out this chapter. It's like the total turning point for this little tale. It's when all the fluff and innocence dissipates and in comes the transition to the darkness and horror.**

**Though, I will say this, there will be some humor; it will just be a little sarcastic and morbid.**

**Warning for this chapter: nudity, (but no explicit details), gore and violence**

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Body**

Officer Mulan Fa was working an extra night shift down at Fantasia's Police Station. She was currently sitting in one of the office booths that had telephone lines connected all over the town. When someone nearby dialed "911", this was where they would get their answer.

Usually, Mulan was working side by side with her close friend and partner Mael Claude. The two of them were part of the homicide department and had done their share of cases over the years. However, tonight one of the officers who were supposed to be in the telephone booths was sick. Since nothing interesting had come up, Mulan offered to take the person's place. After all, if someone needed help, the deserved to be answered and aided right away.

But hey, even an officer like Mulan—who, like her partner, is a force to be reckoned with—can get bored sometimes.

The Chinese American young woman sighed as she propped her elbow up and cupped her face in her hand. Her dark eyes blinked listlessly at the black telephone that refused to ring. She bit her lip, mentally trying to will the phone to ring, to at least give her something to do. When silence answered her plea, Mulan moaned softly and closed her eyes, which were starting to feel heavy. She really wanted to go home and sleep, but her nobility had won over her laziness.

'Tis one of the many necessary sacrifices of a police officer.

Suddenly, just when Mulan was starting to feel like her night was going to be empty, it _happened…_

_Ring…!_

Stunned, her eyes snapped open, both getting wide.

_Ri—!_

Before the second ring could end, Mulan picked up the phone and put it to her mouth. When she opened her mouth to speak it was with a tone that was professional, but kind.

"Fantasia Police Station," she answered, waiting for the person to say what their problem was.

A young woman, who couldn't have been more than twenty years old, answered. Her voice was hoarse, but desperate and afraid. Though Mulan modestly considered herself to be brave, she had to admit that that voice on the other phone made her blood freeze with an ominous terror. Still, she listened as the voice croaked out:

"_Please, you've gotta help me!"_

* * *

—_A few hours earlier—_

Belle felt like her legs were on fire. She had been following Pinocchio's trail as best as she could for almost an hour since she had left the house. It was difficult though, not only because of the long distance to the forest, but also because there were moments where he went out of her sight, causing her to run after him.

Vaguely, she supposed that she should have just gone back home to Lady, and her comfy bed.

But then Belle was reminded of that ominous feeling again, the one that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Though she really wanted to go home, she felt pulled to where Pinocchio was going. The feeling gave her a feeling of foreboding, of something bad about to happen.

Suddenly, as she entered the premise of the forest, Belle felt as if the air shifted somehow. When she finally caught sight of a flash of Pinocchio's face through the trees, Belle shook it off as it being the wind. She felt herself sigh with relief when she saw that he had stopped moving, and she walked slowly to a couple of feet where he was standing, in front of a tree. Before he could turn around and see her, she hid behind a tree, peeking out just a bit.

Pinocchio didn't show any sign that he saw her when he looked her way. Actually, his eyes looked dazed, almost misty. It was almost as if he was in a trance. He turned his head around and looked around, looking confused…and lost.

"Lampy?" he called out meekly. "Are you out there?"

The sounds of nocturnal animals cried out, making Pinocchio jump. He recoiled into himself, curling his hands around his heart, and quivered with fear. His glossy eyes went wide and got even wider as an owl's soft "who" was released. His small Adam's apple wobbled up and down, indicating his harsh swallow.

Belle bit her lip, feeling as if her heart was pierced with a needle. She suddenly got the idea that the poor boy had been ditched by his "friend". Poor Pinocchio.

"Lampy? Where are you?!" he cried out shakily. "I-I don't want to play anymore. Please come out…!"

It was then that Belle couldn't take it anymore. She stepped out of her hiding place and directed her flashlight at the little boy. The boy didn't react to the light; he just kept looking around, and looking scared as the prospect of him being alone seemed sink in. His lack of a reaction didn't register in Belle's mind though.

"Pinocchio," she called. "It's okay, I'm here. We can go home now."

Belle waited, still showing her light on the boy. Her eyes narrowed slightly at the child's silence, and then realized.

_Pinocchio didn't even hear her._

She swallowed hard, getting that feeling again.

"Pinocchio, c'mon! Let's go home, kid."

Still, there was no answer from the child. It was like Belle was invisible, like she wasn't even _there_, at least in Pinocchio's mind. The little boy, not knowing of her presence, just quivered fearfully as he glanced all around the forest. His eyes started to shine with moisture as he sniffed.

"I'm alone," he whimpered to himself as he hugged his body. "I want to go home."

The sight broke Belle's heart, though she felt an underlying frustration. She tightened her grip on her flashlight as her eyes didn't move away from the little boy's form.

_Why was he ignoring her?_

"Pinocchio, come back, come on," she stammered. Belle bit her lip and reached her hand out to touch his shoulder…

…_Only to have her hand go straight through his body!_

Her breath hitched as the realization dawned on her, and she almost stumbled in her shock. Belle retracted her hand, taking a good, close look at it. She clenched it a few times and then turned it around so she could inspect all of its sides. Her hand was the same color it always was, and it felt solid, at least to her. As far as Belle was concerned, there was nothing wrong with it.

_So, why…?_

Belle was brought out from her musings when she heard a tree branch snap close by. She heard Pinocchio gasp beside her and she turned to look down at him. He gulped and tentatively walked in the direction of the sound, still not noticing Belle's presence. Belle watched him, stunned and confused. She felt she had to do something, but what was it?

_Follow him_, a female voice commanded. It sounded soft and motherly, yet very persuasive to Belle. _Follow him, Belle._

For reasons she was sure she wouldn't ever know, Belle followed Pinocchio as they traveled further into the forest. She kept herself close to him as he moved branches out of his way and made his feet quietly crunch against the dirt. As they both walked down what felt like a steep hill, Belle could hear distant footsteps at the bottom. Apparently, so could Pinocchio.

"Lampy?" he said softly, seemingly afraid to call out. "Somebody…?"

Though she knew that he wouldn't hear her, Belle spoke to Pinocchio anyway, as a way to comfort herself.

"Maybe we should turn back, huh, Pinocchio," she offered in the one-sided conversation. "Something bad could happen…" _No_, she mentally corrected. _Something bad __**is**__going to happen._

Unsurprisingly, the boy ignored her and walked ahead of her.

Belle swallowed nervously, awkwardly ruffling her hand through her brown hair. As she followed Pinocchio, the two of them got closer to the source of the footsteps, and Belle didn't know whether to feel good about that, or not. The feeling came back, becoming so strong that it increased her heart rate and made her breath come out in shallow exhales.

Finally, the two of them reached the bottom of the hill, which gave way to a straight, dirt road. From where they were standing, both Pinocchio and Belle heard grunts and soft murmurs that went along with the footsteps. Belle listened more closely, picking up an extra, but faint sound that went with the person presumably making the noise.

_Drag…_

_The person was dragging something…_

Her eyes widened and her throat suddenly became dry.

…_And that something sounded so __**heavy**__…_

Pinocchio, on the other hand, looked oblivious to the extra sound. He instead walked further towards the source of the sound, making Belle's heart jump. She wanted to cry out, to tell him not to go there. She didn't know _why_, but she knew that whatever Pinocchio was getting close to would _not_ be _good_. But she knew by now that talking to him would be useless, so Belle reserved herself to suck it up and just follow him.

Pinocchio swallowed. "I-i-is someone there?" he called weakly.

Suddenly the noises stopped, indicating to Belle that the person stopped all movement. She almost felt relieved, thinking that Pinocchio would be deterred and just turn around.

Maybe her feeling was wrong.

But, against all of Belle's inner wishes, Pinocchio wasn't deterred by the silence. In fact, he silently walked over to a row of bushes that grew on top of a deadfall that overlooked another piece of forest. He ducked behind the bushes, crouching into a fetal position. Belle could tell that he was being silent as he tried to peek through the green leaves to look at the person. Since she didn't feel following the action was necessary, Belle kept herself standing upright so she could look over at what lay beyond the deadfall.

The first thing she noticed was the huge cave. It was tall and wide, with eroded rocks all over the place. It looked like it had been carved to look like a skull, but Belle knew that it was only like that because of its rock structure that made it look like a skull head. Yet she did admit that it looked like something dark and supernatural, especially with the white moonlight refracting from it, making it seem to glow.

Then Belle noticed the man. He stood crouched over, in front of the mouth of the cave. He was dressed in dark clothes and his face hidden by the shadow, so Belle wasn't able to get the details of his face. The shadowy image of his head had picked up though, as the shadow of a body paused in its movement. He was standing there, listening for Pinocchio, who was watching the man with a sickly looking pallor. When he didn't hear anything, he bent over and picked up something that was also hidden by the shadows. It was smaller and thinner than the man, almost resembling a…

_A __**child**__!_

Belle shook her head, not liking where her thoughts were going. As she nervously gnawed her bottom lip, she briefly watched as the man put the smaller shadow over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and then, with one last glance around the forest, he walked inside the cave.

Belle let out a low moan as questions raced through her mind. Who was that man? Where were she and Pinocchio? What was that…other shadow? Why couldn't Pinocchio see or hear her?

_What's going to happen _**now**_?_

With that thought, she cast a glance at Pinocchio and jumped up in shock.

His skin had gone as pale as death. The boy was shaking as if it were winter. He had his knees pinned against his chest by his arms, which were wrapped around them. His blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and releasing a few teardrops. As he sniffled, he started muttering something so softly that Belle had to crouch down to his level to hear what he was saying.

"Monstro, it's Monstro. He's real, he is actually _real_," his voice quaked.

There it was again, "Monstro". Belle narrowed her eyes as she tried to think of what Monstro could be. Was it some horror story children told to each other to create some scares? An imaginary monster created from folktales of a town?

Or something _worse_…?

"…and he has Alice… He has _Alice_."

Belle blinked when Pinocchio added something to himself. Oddly enough, though he looked scared, he also looked angry, upset even. _Alice? …Who is she?_

Suddenly she thought of that smaller shadow…

Belle stared down at him as he slowly, and shakily stood up, clenching his fists at his sides. She gulped harshly, wondering what he was going to do, since he seemed to be thinking about it also. He still looked terrified, but there was a fire in his eyes. One that was fed off the usual naïveté of a child, when the kid thinks that he or she could do anything if he or she tried.

Belle suddenly felt panic bubble in her chest as Pinocchio spread the bushes apart, which evolved into an icy fear as the boy tentatively climbed down the deadfall and head towards the cave in a run.

"NO!" she shouted at the boy before she could stop herself. She scrambled to stand up and she ran after Pinocchio. "Pinocchio, _don't_!" she screamed as she saw him go inside.

By the time she was at the entrance, Belle paused, suddenly feeling afraid. She didn't have her flashlight anymore; she had dropped it on the way to the cave. She could go back and get it, but something might happen to Pinocchio by the time she got back. That and she was just plain terrified. Belle wasn't an expert at fighting, and she didn't have any weapons to depend on, unless a heavy rock counted. She was just one woman, and the man inside the cave looked strong, making her feel vulnerable.

But when Belle saw Pinocchio turn into a blur in the darkness, she reluctantly forced her legs to move right after him. She ran until she saw his shadowy figure in the dim cave, which was lit slightly by moonlight that leaked in through some cracks in the rock. And the fact that he was talking, calling out softly, helped out when Belle thought she lost him.

"Alice?" he would call softly. "Alice, it's me, Pinocchio!"

Occasionally, the path of the cave consisted of some right and left turns, and probably even some traveling around in circles. The tunnels they traveled in were dark; practically pitch black, which just made either of the two of them paranoid of anyone sneaking up on them. Fortunately, the only sounds were the sounds of Pinocchio's footsteps and her own, along with the sound of water dripping from the stalagmites on the cave ceiling.

Belle did get lost a few times, but she would quickly get back on Pinocchio's track when she heard his voice echoing within the cave. It continued on this way for a long time. Since Belle couldn't look at her watch, she wasn't able to tell what the time really was, but if she had to guesstimate, both she and Pinocchio had been walking for about an hour an a half, at the most. It was probably more, though.

Finally, about the time Belle started feeling her head hurt and her body nearly collapse, Pinocchio stopped, causing her to stop also. She tried to focus her eyesight in the cave and saw that they were in what looked like a cul-de-sac within the cave. It was a smooth, rocky land that was surrounded by the tunnels of the cave. Belle saw that there was a hole in the top of this part of the cave, one where the moonlight would leak in, stronger than it had in other parts of the cave. Right now, though, it seemed as if the moon was being hidden by a moving cloud that blocked the full power of its light, making the room in the cave dim.

He gasped slightly and ran ahead, going for what looked like a shadow sitting on a rock. Pinocchio grasped what looked like the shadow's hand and shook it, as if to shake the person awake.

"Alice, are you okay? It's me, Pinocchio," he said gently, his voice choking on suppressed tears of fear and happiness. When not getting a response, he shook the shadow's arm, his anxiousness showing. "Alice, _come on_. Get up!"

As he added his last sentence, the moon came out from behind the cloud, revealing the shadow completely, to both Belle and Pinocchio's eyes…

"Everything is going to be okay, n—"

He cut his sentence off with a gasp. He abruptly dropped the hand of his friend (at least Belle assumed the girl was his friend), fell to his knees and crawled some ways away from the horrifying sight, covering his hand with his mouth as he let out a muffled scream.

Pinocchio's eyes widened as they took in the sight on the slab of rock, and they flooded with tears that streamed down his cheeks like two rivers. As he shook with muffled sobs, Pinocchio got into a crouch and buried his head between his knees.

Meanwhile Belle froze in her place by the tunnel they had walked through, her mouth agape as nausea rose in her throat. She turned her head away from the sight revealed by the moonlight, but it was burned into her eyelids, making her retch a few times. Suddenly feeling faint, she leaned on the edge of the tunnel entrance, trying to keep her balance.

When she felt she was under control, Belle cast another glance at the slab and felt tears flood her vision as her body slid down. Then she turned away, shutting her eyes.

Because on that rock, laid a little girl who had been put on her back. She had long blond hair that looked dirty and unruly. Her once beautiful face, now pale and damaged, was facing the ceiling, her sky blue eyes open, but glassy and unseeing. Her arms hung on either side of the rock.

And right at the center of her body, nude and riddled with yellow and purple bruises, were deep, bloody gashes and slashes all around her diaphragm. Someone had slashed the child with something sharp, but they made sure to use the weapon in a way that it wouldn't have killed Alice right away. The person had made a big, red "X" that ranged from Alice's shoulders all the way to her small hips. Then they had made diagonal, horizontal and vertical slashes around the rest of her body, her chest, her hips, her legs and arms.

A sudden thought struck Belle as she recalled the little girl's body.

Perhaps those faint drops she had heard in the tunnel weren't all water from the stalagmites.

Perhaps some of them were drops of Alice's _blood_…

For wasn't there still blood dripping from one of Alice's arms, where there were horizontal cuts near her elbow…?

_Drip…_

…Or was it just Belle's imagination…?

_Drop…_

Belle put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the sounds of dripping (_drip, drop_), whether it was a figment of her imagination or not. She curled her body into a fetal position and buried her face between her knees, rocking back and forth.

_This is just a nightmare._

_It isn't real._

_Not real._

NOT _real!_

Belle was so caught up that she didn't really register the shadow of what looked like a huge man (or monster?) walking through her in a silent stride, heading towards a frozen and stunned Pinocchio. That is, she didn't notice until…

"AAAGH!!!!"

She opened her eyes and removed her hands from her ears when she heard a scream from the little boy. She turned her head to see some shadowy, unrecognizable man who had his hands grasping Pinocchio's hair and pulling it harshly.

Belle stayed in a frozen shock until the man banged Pinocchio's head on the stone floor, again and again, until blood started leaking from his head. And when the boy screamed and cried out in pain, it just seemed to make the man more vigorous in his abuse.

She growled, feeling a sudden fury burst from her. She stood up and ran to tackle the man to the ground.

"Stay away from him, you son of a bitch!" she screeched as she neared him.

Right when her body should have hit the man's gut and toss him to the ground…

Belle phased right through his body, landing on the wall on the other side, hitting her head on a rock. She felt her head go light as she fell to her side, feeling all mobility leave her body. Black started to flood her vision…

But before she was completely out, Belle caught the faint vision of Pinocchio getting dragged by his feet down a tunnel. He was bleeding profusely from his nose and from the top of his head, where his hair had been pulled so viciously. He continued to scream and plead, tears streaming down his face as he tried to get some ground by clinging to the ground by his nails, which were dragged across the floor as he was.

"_NO! PLEASE, LET ME GO! PLEASE!!!... SOMEONE, HELP ME! LAMPWICK, HELP ME!..._**FATHER!!!**_"_

His pleading face was the last thing Belle saw before blackness took over her entire vision.

* * *

When Belle woke up, she didn't remember anything. She just felt her head hurting and nausea rising in her throat. She swallowed harshly to keep the bile down and slowly sat up. She immediately groaned, grasping her head in pain. She felt like her brain had been run over by a truck ten—no, _twenty_ times.

_Dear God, what did I _do _last night? _Belle recalled her drinking some Shirley Temples. _But I didn't have that many, not enough to cause _this_._

When her hands felt rock instead of the softness of her bed, Belle took a look around where she was. It looked like she was inside some kind of cave.

_How did I end up here?!_

Suddenly her memory came back to her.

Following Pinocchio into the forest…

Him not noticing her at all…

The two of them getting lost…

The cave…

The man…

And the girl's corpse…

His face…

"…_HELP ME…!"_

Despite her pain, Belle jumped to her feet, her expression desperate. She looked at each tunnel entrance worriedly, trying to remember which way Pinocchio was dragged into. When she couldn't remember, she cupped her hands around her mouth and parted her lips.

"Pinocchio!"

Her cry echoed off the walls of the cave, reverberating like a tuning fork.

Yet she didn't get an answer.

Fear clawed at her chest, making Belle start shaking. She cupped her hands over her mouth again to scream out once more.

"PINOCCHIO!"

Belle strained her ears more, trying to hear a response.

There was none…

Her spirits dampened with her guilt and then lightened slightly when a faint sound came to her ears.

_Is that…water?_

_As in a river?_

The sound came from one of the tunnels on the far side of the cave room. Belle leaned her head inside the entrance and heard rushing water ahead. She felt elated suddenly.

Maybe Pinocchio would be there, safe and sound.

The cynical part of her mind protested this false hope, but Belle followed the naïve side of her and proceeded to walk down the tunnel. After all, it wouldn't hurt to at least try. It was dark, clammy and slippery. She was lucky that she had held on to the wall (clammy as it was), otherwise she would have fallen by now.

As she descended, she kept up with her searching calls for the boy she had met hours prior to this. She swore to herself that the boy was no illusion and that everything that had happened really did happen. It was no dream, or nightmare.

Yet, Belle had some underlying doubts about that.

When she had traveled with Pinocchio, the air had shifted, suddenly feeling strange. It wasn't like it was hard to breathe…it just felt different.

Right now, it didn't _feel_ that same way. It felt as normal as it had felt previously, before the air had shifted around her and Pinocchio. Belle felt a slight nervousness at this revelation, but she pushed it aside, once again thinking it was just either the hot, sour air, or her silly, vivid imagination playing tricks on her.

Finally, Belle got to a landing and she looked around. The moonlight seeping in was small, but it was enough for her to see. She was suddenly in another part of the cave, a reservoir of some kind. She was standing on the edges of some kind of rocky pool that was full of water that flowed inside from a small waterfall over the bowl.

Belle looked at the water warily wondering how deep it was, yet at the same time, not desiring to find out. She glanced over the pool and saw another tunnel entrance about ten feet away from where she stood. All she had to do was walk the ledge to get there.

So, Belle clung her body to the stone wall and slowly dragged her feet all the way there, doing her best to concentrate on her door to either freedom, or finding Pinocchio, and not on what was floating in the water.

…

…

Wait a minute…

_What was floating in the water?!_

Shakily, Belle turned her head to look down at the water in the pool. She narrowed her eyes, seeing some kind of shadow of something floating on the surface of the water. When she had a good look of the thing, Belle's eyes widened and she gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth to keep herself from vomiting.

It was a boy.

No, not the boy she was looking for. Pinocchio was smaller, younger. This boy, who was floating in the water, was taller and older. He was floating on his front, not revealing his face to Belle. He had a crop of red hair that floated around his head like a halo. His entire body, which was nude, had strange incisions that cut into the skin, caused by some wire, if Belle thought correctly. On his neck, at the base, was a gaping hole that had had been stabbed by something…

_A hook…?_

The water had some red diluted in it, but not that much, since corpses didn't bleed.

But that wasn't what filled Belle with horror.

It was the huge red "X" that had been carved on the boy's back. Each slash went down from a shoulder blade all the way down to the boy's hips.

_Just like the mark that was on that little girl!_

Belle felt herself slide down the wall until she was sitting on the ledge of the pool, with her legs spread out in front of her. Her eyes were wide, filling with tears as she kept her mouth covered. Her heart beat quickened and her breathing became labored.

_That little girl…that poor girl…_

_And now this boy…_

"_Children murders…"_

"_They were kept in darkness…"_

"…_HELP ME…!"_

"…_Monstro…"_

It was too much.

…All _too_ much…!

Suddenly, someone in the cave was screaming. It was loud, screechy and terrified. It bounced off the cave walls, echoing and ringing in Belle's ears. She put her hands over her ears to block the scream, but she could still hear it. The unknown screamer continued until Belle realized how much her throat felt raw and sore. It was then she realized.

_She _was the one screaming.

And she continued to scream until she felt tears stream down her cheeks. Belle's voice must have worn itself out, giving way from screams to soft sobs.

She suddenly didn't want to be in Fantasia anymore.

No book was worth this. Belle might as well take Lady, hop on the nearest train home and stay with her original genre and become the next Linda Howard, or Nora Roberts—hell, even Stephanie Meyer!

Belle continued to lament, both mentally and physically until she just felt tired. She took deep, slow breaths and got her breathing under control. She slowly stood up and forced herself to move to the tunnel door, trying her best not to look at the child corpse floating in the water. She almost did, but swallowed up her terror and just walked on by.

As she walked through the tunnel, Belle gave up on finding Pinocchio. She solemnly had a strong feeling that the poor boy had met the same fate as the other one. And she didn't want to go on throughout the caves searching for another corpse. Belle had seen one too many child corpses that night.

Still, that didn't mean that she was going to allow the murderous bastard get away with it. She just wasn't going to handle it personally. This was something for the police.

So, when Belle found herself at the cave entrance, she fished her jean pockets for her cell phone. She briefly felt a little surprised that she had forgotten it was there all this time, but she shook it off and just flipped it open.

As she stepped out of that hell of a cave and into the clearing in front of it, Belle dialed "911" and waited.

"_Fantasia Police Station," _a woman answered. She sounded tired, but kind all the same.

Belle didn't want to sound as scared as she felt, but her voice, though hoarse came out that way.

"Please, you've gotta help me!"

"_Okay, Miss,"_ the woman replied softly. _"I need you to tell me your name, where you are and what happened to you, all right? Can you do that?"_

"Yes." Belle suddenly felt tears break free from her eyes again and she choked. She swallowed harshly and began, trying not to break down again.

"My name is Belle. I am in front of this strange cave in Fantasia's forest," Belle paused, sniffled, and then continued. "I was going through the forest with this little boy and we came to this cave, following some man that had a…body with him. The two of us went inside the cave and found the body. It was a little girl with blond hair by the name of Alice, according to the boy with me. That was what he called her.

"Anyway, after we discovered the body, we were assaulted by the man. I was knocked out, while the boy was taken. He wasn't there when I woke up. I traveled the caves to look for him until I saw another corpse—this time of a different boy. He was older than the one I was with, he must have been ten, maybe thirteen—I dunno. The point is that he's still there, in that cave. I could even show you where. I think the little boy I was with is there too.

"Please, I'm scared," Belle finished, choking. "I just want to go home."

The woman on the line said softly, comfortingly, _"I know. I understand perfectly, Belle. Just tell me which cave you are near and we'll send two officers to get you."_

She sniffed. "I—I don't know what the name of the cave is."

"_Can you describe it to me?"_

"It's shaped like a…a skull."

There was a pause on the other side of the phone. And then…

"…_I see, you're in Skull*." _Belle noted how solemn the woman sounded. _"I'll send two officers to come get you, Belle, but you have to stay where you are and __**stay calm**__."_

Feeling elated, Belle was about to thank the woman, but then she heard faint footsteps…

…_coming from right behind her…!_

"_Belle?"_

"Miss," Belle quaked meekly. "Would you mind hurrying, please?"

"_No…. Why? Is there something wrong?"_

As the footsteps crept up closer, Belle lowered her voice to a whisper.

"**I think that man is still here."**

That was the last thing Belle said before she felt something hard hit the back of her head. Then her world became dark again.

* * *

**Note: Whoo! Thirteen pages! I think that's a record for this story.**

*Anyway, you know that Winnie the Pooh movie, "The Search for Christopher Robin"? Picture the cave from that movie, only it really is as long and scary as Pooh and his friends thought. This was not Belle's imagination.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Please just go to the first chapter, because it still holds true.

Warning for this chapter: A _lot_ of OOC-ness for some characters (won't give it away). Hope no one minds, and if someone does, well—sorry, but I feel it would be better this way.

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Return**

_His hard blue eyes scanned the scene occurring below him, from his position on the cave. As Belle fell to the ground in a limp heap, blood leaked from, and pooled around the back of her head, where _he _had hit her. His hands clenched into tiny fists, and his eyes blazed with fury as _that man_ ran away from the scene, his head swishing from side to side, as if to make sure that no one saw him._

_Little did he know that he _had_ been seen. _

_After all, ghosts are the best witnesses to a crime._

_But then again, did it really matter?_

_The ghost snorted to himself bitterly, feeling guilt coil in his stomach. If he would—and you can be certain that he _would_—the ghost would reveal all of the man's crimes to the police, even if he had to freak them out by writing on the chalkboard. (They wouldn't see him doing it; they'd just see a floating piece of chalk.) _

_No—an even better temptation; he could kill the man himself, then drag him down to the Underworld and leave him to suffer._

_The ghost's eyes tinged red as a twisted grin marred his innocent looking face. Yes, it was tempting; he wasn't afraid to admit it. To be frank, he'd been getting sick of waiting for his vengeance. When that day came, there would be a dark flood of "Monstro's" blood. He would make sure of that._

_He _would_ do all that, but he _couldn't_._

_He sobered himself, bringing himself back to the bitter reality. His eyes returned to their lovely shade of blue as he silently reprimanded himself. Yes, the temptation was too great sometimes, but he had trained himself to resist it over the last couple of years. _

_Because, as much as he wanted to defy them, there were _rules.

_And he respected the Blue Fairy too much to lose himself to his bloodlust and lust for revenge._

_As he got himself back together, he looked down at Belle again, and his eyes softened, his guilt renewed. It shouldn't have begun like this. Belle should have stayed home, where it was safe. She shouldn't have gotten hurt, especially when she didn't deserve it._

_Unfortunately, he knew that it would just get harder for her._

_…If she decided to help them, that is._

_He lifted off the cave and floated down to where Belle lay, landing soundlessly. Since he was no longer of the Living World, yet also not completely gone from it, he was no longer solid, so the laws of physics didn't apply to him anymore. _

_No one should have been able to see him, let alone touch him._

_Until _now_, that is…_

_But that wasn't important right now. He had to get her out of here, to someplace safe and easy for the police to find her. Carrying her there wouldn't be a problem, since most things of the Living World were weightless anyway._

_As he lifted her onto his shoulder, he found himself looking in the direction "Monstro" had run off in. His eyes suddenly looked cold as ice, yet looked like they could burn anything if they stared hard enough. Suddenly, he started chuckling darkly as a wide smirk, one full of dark promise, spread across his face._

_"Go ahead, you bastard. Run off and act like you have everyone in this town fooled," Pinocchio said coldly, his voice, no longer innocent and childish. Its pitch was still like that of a prepubescent boy, but it was harder and more adult-like.* _

_"You'll be _ours _one day—you can be sure of that."_

* * *

Medical examiner Dr. James P. Hook* was not one of Fantasia's most well liked men. In fact, people made it their job to avoid him at all costs. His face was too pale, his nose too crooked, his odd black mustache too intimidating and his forget-me-not eyes were too cold for any normal human.

But that was fine. Hook much preferred the dead to the living. He wouldn't be who he was if he didn't. When one talked to a corpse lying on a steel table, one could pretend that it answered back.

There were certain corpses, however, that even the stone cold Dr. Hook hesitated to examine, let alone have a one-sided conversation.

As he looked down at his beloved steel table, not for the first time, Hook started to consider retirement. Lying there was the dead white, bruised corpse of a neighborhood boy who gave him nothing but grief when he had been alive. Despite that however, Hook had been inwardly shaken when he heard that the impudent child's body had been discovered—in the _same damn spot_, no less.

A pair of green eyes opened slowly, blinking once and then staring up into Hook's own eyes. The eyes were dull and empty, lacking the life and innocence they once had, yet the boy greeted the man with his trademark smirk.

_"Well, well, well,"_ said Peter Pan, or what was once Peter Pan, with a quirked eyebrow. _"If it isn't the old codfish himself. Come to slice me up like your other 'customers'?"_

Hook didn't show any shock or surprise on his face. So, stoically he answered, "Yes, I have."

The dead boy's laugh was hollow, yet loud since it bounced off the chrome walls of the morgue. _"I bet you never expected to see me on here, didya Hook?"_

"Not in this lifetime."

Peter laughed a couple more times, all with no humor, and then it slowly died down as he frowned. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking a few times. Then with a miserable twist of his mouth, he shut his eyes.

_"Go ahead, gloat!"_ he hissed. _"I know you want to."_

Hook suddenly found the hook that replaced his left hand interesting. It was the result of a war injury many years ago, one where he had been attacked while attending to some patients. He had long forgotten what war it was and what the battle had been about, and he didn't care to remember. Why bring up bad (_no, not bad—useless_, he would reassure himself) memories? He started twisting it around, as if tuning a guitar.

"There would be no point, boy," he replied softly, still fiddling with his silver hook.

Green eyes blazed up at him with fury.

_"Why _not_? I was too naïve, too trusting! I made a stupid mistake—come on, say it!"_

"We all mistakes, Pan."

_"Yeah, well last I checked, a mistake could be fixed...This one can't fixed, Hook, we both know that," _the dead boy laughed suddenly, his eyes widening in a sudden realization—the expression was one of someone who was completely broken and mentally lost. It was almost enough to make Hook cringe.

What the boy said, no—more like _sang_—next did make Hook's eye twitch though.

_"I'm dead, Hook. Dead, dead, dead…and I won't be coming back."_

Hook twisted his hook around. "I know."

Peter's face went back to a neutral expression, though there seemed to be a flicker of sadness and doubt in his dead eyes. _"…Do you think…people will miss me?"_

The man snorted, smirking slightly. "Do you even have to ask? You're leaving a lot of people behind, boy. Those girls who love you, your friends, your family…I've no doubt in my mind that your funeral will be flooded with tears."

Peter hummed. _"My family,"_ he said softly, as if the term was unfamiliar.

"You already know your sister is devastated, but I don't think you ever stopped to realize how much your parents love you," he said solemnly, recalling how the Pan family had reacted when they came to identify the youngest of their family the previous night.

The boy seemed to read his mind, his face twisted up in bemusement. _"…I don't think I've ever seen my mom cry that much—never, in fact. Even Dad looked upset…"_

Hook frowned down at the corpse. "Well, what did you _expect_, boy? You might have thought that they were overbearing at times, but that was only to protect you. Imagine how they feel now, and how they felt last night, when they realized that their efforts were for naught? Your parents love you and your sister to death. If they had lost _both_ of you, I am inclined to believe that they would have both gone mad."

_"But…_why_?"_

Hook sighed, "Because a parent's worst nightmare is to see their child buried and dead before they are."

Peter Pan's eyes widened slightly, flickering with something akin to regret and guilt. He turned his head to the side, his eyes drooping solemnly. Hook could only guess what was going through the dead child's mind—if there was anything going through it at all. Perhaps the child felt guilty of causing so much grief…?

_"Hey, codfish…thanks for this,"_ the boy nodded towards the sheet that covered his body, from the neck and shoulders, to his legs.

Hook's listless eyes glanced at the sheet, and shrugged. "I remember how proud you were, more proud than any thirteen year old boy should be. I feel that you wouldn't want anyone to see your body in such a state."

That was partially the reason. The truth was that Hook was afraid. The man felt an uneasy twist in the bowels of his stomach at the thought of what lay beneath those sheets, even though he already had a good idea. He knew what bruises would be in certain places, what wounds would be there, and where the cause of death would most likely be. Hook had already seen similar wounds on numerous dead children ten years ago, and that should have been enough for his lifetime. One's sanity could only take so much.

Once again, that retirement condo on the beach was looking pretty good right now.

Peter snorted. _"That's kind of pointless, Hook. You're going to see everything anyway, so my privacy will still be exposed." _His eyes, not looking directly at the man, softened however. _"Thanks again, though."_

"…You're welcome."

The boy turned his head to the other side, not facing Hook, and most of his expression hidden by his red locks. Hook noticed that his arms twitched as the boy clenched his fist in what seemed like anger. A shuddering breath escaped and Peter's body started trembling as the boy spoke in a choked, broken voice.

_"I…tried to fight him…I swear I did. But…"_

"I know, Peter…I know."

_"...He _will_ pay...That bastard _will_ pay for this...For **all** of this," _Peter said—no, _stated_. In Hook's ears, it wasn't some childish threat. It was a cold, hard fact.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, especially for the murderer, but he nodded his agreement anyway. He wanted whoever did this to Peter to go through hell and back.

Because how many more child corpses will be placed before Hook before he finally cracks?

The two of them stared at each other for what felt like hours, but Hook knew that it was only for a few moments. The man and the boy, who never saw eye to eye, who would find some way to antagonize each other, no matter how childish it all was. When alive, Peter had never really respected Hook, and vice versa, yet when he was dead, the two of them seemed to reach some kind of understanding. It was strange, at least in Hook's mind. He couldn't really speak for his new "client".

Finally, after a silent moment of sizing each other up, Peter actually smiled up at Hook with lidded eyes.

_"Tell Smee that I said hi."_

"Will do."

With that, Peter closed his eyes and became a silent corpse once more.

Hook stared down at the corpse for a few more moments. He almost felt like he was waiting for something. He wasn't sure if it was for the corpse to speak again, or not. He felt as if there was more that should have been _said_. Such as the identification of the killer, for instance. That would probably set the man's mind at ease.

But Hook knew _that _would be useless. No corpse ever told who the killer was.

That job belonged to homicide investigators.

_His_ job was to find the cause of death, and to profile the killer. Hook was good at that. He had to be, since he had spent almost the last quarter of his life with this job. He couldn't say that he was happy with his job, but Hook felt _satisfied_, and that was good enough for him.

Still, perhaps he really was ready to let it go…?

"Sir?"

A meek voice called softly from behind Hook.

He turned around to see his assistant and old friend, Smee. He didn't feel the need to be embarrassed at all that the shorter man had seen and heard him involved in a one-sided conversation with the dead boy. Smee had done that before, and had never called him out on it. He knew Hook well enough to respect him, no matter what idiosyncrasies he had. It was the look on his superior's face that stunned Smee.

It looked so…

_Dead._ That was the best word Smee could use to describe Hook. It unnerved him, to say the least. The man always had looked so _sure_ of himself when he was working. It was one of many personality traits that Smee admired about Hook. The only time he had ever seen him like that was about twenty odd years ago.

As he cast a glance at the corpse on the table, Smee's mood visibly dampened more. He suddenly understood.

"Mr. Smee, get your scrubs on, and bring out your tools," Hook softly commanded with a nod of his head towards the back of the room.

Smee firmly nodded, already walking there. "Yes sir."

While Smee was back there, Hook hand turned back to stare down at Peter Pan's corpse. He removed his silver hook and inserting a sharp scalpel in its place. He lifted his hand in the air, to which Smee had put on a latex glove, since Hook couldn't do it one-handed. Then Smee handed him a plastic helmet to put over his head, while grasping his.

As he put on the helmet, Hook took a few calming breaths and resolved himself as he lifted off the sheet from the body.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

The first thing Belle sensed was the smell. She had only smelled that particular smell once before, when her father had a heart attack a few years ago. That was the last time that she allowed her father to be that close to that place of death and uncertainty.

_A hospital._

She moaned softly, not opening her eyes. She cringed softly as she unintentionally inhaled that medicine-like smell, but didn't move anymore. As Belle felt her head get a little clearer, she heard faint beeping beside her, most likely from a heart monitor. She was also aware of the sharp pain at the back of her head.

There was also some soft talking of two women from either inside or outside the room. Her ears had gotten their hearing strength back, so she was able to catch what the women were saying.

_"This is her? The girl the police want to talk to?"_

_"Mm-hm."_

_"…What happened?"_

That was a good question, Belle thought to herself, but she didn't voice it. She didn't even open her eyes. Last night was a bit of a blur, with only a few images in mind. Something about a boy, a cave, and a…

She froze, her eyes snapping wide open.

_"_No!_ She's the one who found Peter?"_

_"That's right."_

_"Oh, that poor boy—and his family, also! They must be going insane right about now…What was she _doing_ in Skull anyway?"_

_"That's probably what the police want to find out."_

_"…Merryweather?"_

_"…Yes, Fauna?"_

_"Y-you don't think…I-it couldn't be possible that…"_

_"Don't be ridiculous. He was caught years ago, everyone knows that. This is just another tragic death of a child, that's all. For all we know, it was probably an accident." _

_"Oh dear…I hope, for the children's sake, that that is all…"_

Belle played the part of the sleeping patient until the gossipy nurses walked away from her room, probably to tend to some other patient. When she was certain no one was going to enter, she sat up and stared down at her lap as her thoughts wandered. As her eyes started watering, she bit her lip.

It hadn't been a nightmare. A boy really died, and ironies of ironies, _Belle_ had been the one to find him. Before her emotions got the best of her, she started to wipe her eyes, but then she froze, confusion filling her.

_But what about Pinocchio?_

Belle thought about this for a second. Neither of those women mentioned an extra body being found in the cave, just the other boy's, (a.k.a. "Peter"). What did that mean? Could Pinocchio have escaped from that monster's grasp?

…Or—could he have been hidden in another spot?

She shivered, resolving to hugging herself and rubbing her shoulders. Somehow that didn't help.

"Miss Belle?"

Belle jumped slightly and whipped her head to look at the doorway, where the source of the voice came from. Standing there was an Asian American woman in a white blouse and brown slacks, which had an empty holster connected to it like a belt. She smiled kindly at Belle as she ran a hand through her chin length dark hair.

"Sorry if I woke you, but I am Officer Mulan Fa," she said. "My partner and I just want to ask you a few questions about last night."

Belle bit her lip nervously. "What kind of questions?"

"We just basically need you to repeat what you told me last night." At Belle's confused look, she added, "Over the phone."

"Oh, that was you," Belle said softly, recalling her conversation with the police the night before.

Mulan nodded. "That's right. You see, last night we sent two officers to Skull, but they found you first, lying unconscious on the side of the road, not too far from the cave. Do you remember who hit you on the head?"

She blinked, and then closed her eyes, straining to remember. Belle recalled hearing heavy footsteps on the grass, coming up from behind her, but she did not recall seeing the assaulter's face at all. She just remembered the sharp pain at the back of her head, and losing all consciousness.

So, she shook her head. "No." Belle's eyes widened when she remembered something. "But I know that I was in front of the cave when I was hit, not on a side of the road."

Mulan hummed thoughtfully at that. "It could be that you were moved once you were out cold. Probably by the culprit." She smiled a little. "It's probably a good thing too. Apparently, according to the doctors' diagnosis, that hadn't been the first time you were hit in the head. Do you recall the first time you hit your head?"

"Yeah, it had been when I fell in the cave."

"Well, the culprit's hit, along with your previous fall, left you with torn skin on the back of your head, and a nearly cracked skull." At Belle's look, Mulan waved at her, reassuringly. "Don't worry. You may have lost a lot of blood, but there was luckily no brain damage. The doctor's gave you a few butterfly stitches last night to hold the torn skin together. Just don't move around too much, leave it alone and it will eventually feel like they aren't even there."

Well, that certainly explained the harsh pain on the back of her head, but Belle thought that the whole thing was a little odd. Why would the culprit put her somewhere for her to be found sooner? Wouldn't it have been smarter to just leave her where she was, so she could bleed to death? Why keep her alive?

A fuzzy memory flashed through her mind. It was dark and hazy, indicating that her eyes must not have been open all the way, but her senses were potent enough to recall that someone had carried her…

…Someone _small_.

"Belle?" Mulan called softly. "You all right?"

Belle blinked, being brought back to reality, and then she nodded, hesitantly. "Yes, I'm fine…Are there anymore questions?"

"Actually, yes. How long have you been in Fantasia?"

"As of today, I'd say a day and a half."

"So, it's safe to say you did not know of Skull?"

Belle shook her head. "No."

"Can you please tell me again how you came to be there?"

"I was led there by a little boy. He had been in my house for a bit, and at eleven he went out to the forest to meet with his friend."

Mulan looked up from her notebook, where she was writing her notes. "Did you see this friend?"

"No," Belle sighed. "But I do know that the little boy kept referring to him as 'Lampy'."

This caused Mulan to pause and narrow her eyes as her mind raced. Lampwick was involved…?

"Please continue," she commanded politely.

Belle bit her lip. "This is where everything might start to get a little…weird."

"I can listen to weird." _It wouldn't be the first time_, Mulan added mentally.

Belle took a deep breath, and released it. "Okay, well—when the little boy went outside, I didn't see the friend he was waiting for. He waved at me goodbye and started for the forest—alone. I didn't feel right letting him go off alone, so I followed him…"

"All right…go on."

"…Eventually, I caught up with him in the forest. He was still alone; no one else was with him, except for me. But when I made my presence known, he acted as if I wasn't there. Despite that though, I continued to follow him, because I just didn't…" Belle struggled with the words slightly.

"Feel right with leaving him alone?" Mulan finished politely.

She nodded, and then continued at Mulan's gesture. "Suddenly we both heard a noise, and we followed it to in front of Skull. We both saw a man dragging something into the cave."

"Did you see what the man looked like?"

"No, it was too dark. I couldn't see what he was carrying either. But the little boy apparently did. I think he saw one of his friends being carried off by the man. He called her Alice."

Mulan's hand froze as she finished her note, and her almond eyes widened. _No, it couldn't be…it's such a common name. Just a coincidence._

Oblivious to Mulan's reaction, Belle continued her story. She talked about how she and Pinocchio (she hadn't named him in her statement) had found Alice's corpse at the center of the cave. She told about how Pinocchio got attacked by the man, who was still unrecognizable, and how she had tried to help him, but was knocked down, hit her head on the wall, and falling unconscious.

Belle didn't tell Mulan about how she had _phased _through the man and hit her head, because a) it sounded too crazy, and b) Belle still wasn't sure if that was what really happened. It could have just _felt _like she went through the man's body, when in reality, the man could have easily hit her or step out of her way.

Mulan took it all in stride, only asking a few questions here and there. So far, after the "Alice" reference, she didn't find anything odd about Belle's story….At least, not until near the end.

"So, soon after you woke up, you tried to find an exit?"

"Yes," Belle answered softly.

"And that was when you found the body?"

"…Yes."

"In case you are concerned, we did find the body last night, though it was no easy feat. There are a lot of tunnels down in Skull, it's practically a maze. It took us a couple of hours, until about five in the morning, but we found a young boy floating in a reservoir deep down in the cave. Was he the boy who led you to the cave?"

"No." Belle shook her head. "That boy was different from Pinocchio."

Once again, Mulan stiffened at another _oh-so_-familiar name, only this time she was shaking slightly. She took a few deep breaths and released them, trying to calm herself down. In her shock, she almost didn't catch Belle's question.

"…You guys didn't find another boy down there?"

Mulan shook her head solemnly. "No, just Peter Pan….Would you mind describing the little boy, please?"

Belle nodded. "Pinocchio is about yea big, about up to my hips. He is white, and has black hair and blue eyes. And when I saw him he was wearing a white shirt, denim overalls and brown boots."

Though she nodded to Belle, internally, Mulan was freaking out. This stranger shouldn't know these kinds of things; Belle hadn't even been in Fantasia for a week. And even so, she shouldn't have known such details about Pinocchio, right down to his clothing. It wasn't possible, not possible…

"You're lying."

The ice cold voice made both women jump with shock. Recognizing the voice, Mulan turned her head around and saw her partner, Mael standing at the door. His shoulders were raised, like the hackles of a threatened wolf, and his eyes looked as furious as a storm. His mouth was twisted into a scowl and his nostrils were flared, showing Mulan how angry he was.

_Oh boy._

Bemused, Belle blinked at the man who was glaring at her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Mael replied. "You, Miss Belle, are lying."

Belle glared back at the man. How dare he call her a liar? He didn't even know her.

"I'm not lying," she ground out. "It all happened."

"Uh-huh, sure," he chuckled condescendingly. "Now why don't you tell us what really happened, and what you were _really_ doing down at Skull."

"I did!" she yelled. "And I wasn't doing _anything_ in Skull, except making sure a kid was safe."

"Then you must have been delusional. You had been drinking, correct?"

Belle gaped at him, appalled, and then she glared harder at him, her eyes matching the fury of his.

"Yes, I had been drinking," she hissed. "But I did not imagine last night. I know that Pinocchio was real, and I know he was the one that led me to Skull."

Mael's smirk disappeared and was replaced with a bestial snarl. "That is not only a lie, but it is also impossible, Miss Belle."

That made Belle quirk an eyebrow. "Oh? And what does that mean?"

Before Mael could retort, Mulan answered first, her words more gentle than anything that was about to come out of her partner's mouth.

"I'm sorry, Belle, but he's right. Pinocchio couldn't have been the one to help you last night," she paused, trying to find an easier way to say this. Unfortunately, there was no way to sugarcoat it.

"Because Pinocchio _died_ ten years ago. He had been a victim of the Fantasia child murders—the last victim."

Belle froze, her mouth going slack, and she stared at both Mulan and Mael for a good few minutes. Then she started laughing, a sound that was the result of frazzled nerves, one that a person made when they were ready to be in denial over whatever shocking thing was said. When she saw how serious both Mulan and Mael's faces were, she stopped laughing, and lips started trembling.

"You must be joking, right?" she stammered, sounding almost desperate. "Please tell me you aren't serious."

But their faces were answers enough.

Strangely enough, Belle felt close to crying again. Her breathing got harsh, making her chest heave. She could hear the erratic beeping of her heart monitor, but nothing was louder than the drumming in her ears as her blood flow quickened with her heart beat.

_It…had to be a lie, right?_

She recalled Pinocchio's face, how normal he looked. He didn't look dead, he didn't even look like a revived zombie, like in those horror movies. What Mulan and Mael said had to be a joke, or something…right?

But then she recalled her conversation with Jim Dandy, and that one little detail he mentioned when he talked about Geppetto. A detail she had forsaken as unimportant. The one that had disappeared under the effects of alcohol and the desperate need to go to sleep…

_"…And thirteen years ago, he finally earned enough to adopt a child—a five year old by the name of _**Pinocchio**_…"_

**_There._** That was the detail—the one detail that revealed it all to be true.

_But still…_

Her voice quaked as she spoke again.

"Then…who was that boy from last night?"

* * *

Belle's dream that night wasn't happy, not that she expected it to be. She was alone, in a hospital room, inside a silent building. In her dark room, she thought she something move, sort of wave at her. She even felt that someone was watching her, and that was enough to delay her much needed sleep.

That and the fact that she couldn't figure out who Pinocchio really was last night. That kept her brain working in the late hours of the night, as she tried to find a logical explanation behind the previous night. It could have been that the child really had played a prank on her. Or perhaps Pinocchio was his real name. It was probably pretty common…

_Then again, how many boys has she met who are named "Pinocchio"?_

Eventually, despite her paranoia, Belle closed her eyes and fell asleep.

And then, her nightmare began…

The first thing she noticed was that she was standing in the attic again, where she had met Pinocchio for the first time. It was exactly like the previous night, only Lady wasn't there at her side. And, when she directed her gaze at Pinocchio, just like she had in the previous night, Belle realized that he was different.

_Much_ different.

The little boy smirked up at her evilly; his eyes both having slit black pupils surrounded blue ice, giving him a face that resembled a demon, rather than a child.

"Hello, Belle. How wonderful to see you again."

Belle's eyes widened and she found herself backing up slightly. When she saw the demonic looking boy tilt his head in mock innocence, Belle harshly swallowed the spit that had gathered in her mouth. She did not like this Pinocchio, not one bit.

"What's wrong, Belle?" Pinocchio asked, his voice deceitfully light. "You aren't scared…are you?"

He took a few slow steps forward, making Belle take a few steps back. He didn't look deterred however; Belle, on the other hand, was freaking out. Her eyes were as wide as plates, and her mouth was twisted into a terrified grimace.

"I'm not going to bite." He grinned at her psychotically, revealing two rows of razor sharp white teeth. _"Much."_

That was enough for Belle to gasp, and then turn around and run out the door…

If the door existed, of course.

She found her lips trembling as she surveyed the room. Surprisingly, despite the moonlight coming in and flooding the room, there was no window, or any other possible exit. She started running around the room, banging on the walls and screaming in frustration. All the while, she could feel her erratic pulse drum through her ears, as well as her breathing become near wheezing. She felt like a trapped little animal longing for escape, but never receiving its wishes. That only made her panic feel worse.

By the time she dared to look at him again, Pinocchio's eyes had widened, as well as his toothy grin. He giggled, a light sound that was anything but innocent.

"Come on, Belle. There is no escape, so don't waste your time trying to find one."

Despite her fear, Belle glared at dream Pinocchio. "Let me out, and leave me alone!"

For a brief second, his face was blank. Then Pinocchio closed his eyes, threw his head back, and burst out into loud laughter.

Belle cringed and backed away from him until she hit a wall, and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. That was not the light hearted laugh of a happy child. It was a twisted mockery of it, laced with lost sanity and lost innocence, and the indifference of other people's feelings but their own. It was more chilling than anything a cartoon villain could _ever_ do, and twice as terrifying.

As his laughter continued, becoming sporadic enough to cause tears to leak from his eyes, Belle's thoughts raced. First they were of how she was going to get out of here, but then they wandered down another area, as she examined Pinocchio more closely.

There wasn't anything different about his appearance (except the obvious), but Belle found that there was something about him that was _missing_. She tried to strain her memory to when she had met Pinocchio, when his smile was like that of a child, and tried to see if she had seen it when they had been standing in the attic. Her eyes widened as she realized that she hadn't seen _it_, during either the first time, or at this moment. And she hadn't even noticed the lack of _it_ the first time because she had been too focused on Pinocchio to notice, or care.

_His shadow._

She looked at him again, trying to make sure her eyes and her memories hadn't played any tricks on her.

_Pinocchio…doesn't cast a shadow._

Despite the mysterious illumination that was on him at the moment, like a stage's spotlight, Pinocchio had _no shadow_.

_But…how can that _be_? _All_ things cast a shadow…_

"That's true, Belle," Pinocchio said, as if he had read her mind. His eyes narrowed cruelly, suddenly glowing blood red.

"All _living_ things cast a shadow."

With that said, something started to happen to Pinocchio's body, right in front of Belle's eyes. Her eyes widened, tearing suddenly. She immediately put her hand on her closed mouth, not only to stifle her frightened whimpers and moans, but to keep the bile that threatened to rise within her mouth. She wanted to shut her eyes, but she found she couldn't look away.

First, it looked as if the skin on the left half of Pinocchio's face was drooping like how a Bloodhound's muzzle would. The same thing happened to the skin around his elbows and neck.

Second, the skin started to turn black, almost as if it had been burned. Belle was suddenly attacked with a rank odor not unlike rotten eggs, or brimstone.

Third, the skin started to tear on its own, revealing decaying muscle and some hints of bone beneath it. The skin immediately went dry like beef jerky, only it smelled extremely bad.

Half of Pinocchio's face was void of skin and some flesh. The other half, while not completely gone, was deathly gaunt, nearly coal black, and his skin had been poked with holes. Some of his hair had even fallen out as it lost its luster and seemed to be covered with dust and dirt. Everything on Pinocchio's body started to wither and dry. The stench that Belle had smelled became worse, nearly suffocating. His clothes were torn. His shirt collar was ripped, stretching the shirt out, revealing one decaying shoulder. The left shoulder buckle of his overalls was unclipped, and his pants ripped, revealing hints of nearly fleshless legs. His boots were no longer on his feet, revealing decaying feet and toes.

Soon, there were bugs crawling all over him, flies buzzing around his head, and worms crawling through his flesh...

He was no longer a child in Belle's eyes. He was now a rotting corpse.

Suddenly, Belle began to scream. The high pitched sound bounced off the walls, echoing even in her ears. Sobbing, she twisted her body and started clawing at the wall with her fingernails.

She had to get out.

_She had to get out of there!_

As she clawed sporadically, Belle didn't dare turn around to look at the monstrosity that she could hear stepping toward her. She even kept her eyes closed, as a precaution.

_"Ha-ha-ha-ha, seems you've finally figured it out. And all I had to do was show my true form to you. Stupid little girl."_

Sadly, that still didn't mean she couldn't hear what it said. It sounded so close now; Belle could practically smell its rank, decaying breath. Its voice was hoarse, almost like a wheezing cough.

_Because a rotting corpse lacks the moisture in its throat to speak in a proper tone._

"Leave me alone!" she screeched through her tears.

She kept moving her hands against the wall, dragging her nails against the wood, until a hand grasped her body and stopped all of her movements.

…Actually, a couple of hands.

Belle opened her eyes wide and cried out, frightened of what she saw.

About four pale hands were phasing out of the wall and grabbing her body. They were all deathly pale, with dark veins under their skin that made them look like marble. Then ten, no, twenty tiny hands reached and grasped her arms, legs, shoulders, hips—everything! She saw that many of them didn't have flesh on their hands. Some were even covered in black, moldy spots. Some had been all skeleton hands, yet their grip was so tight that it was painful. Some even had insects crawling on them, digging at the remnants of their flesh…

Belle struggled harshly, grunting loudly, but it didn't matter. Her capturer's weren't going to let her go. Even though she knew that, she still struggled harder, especially when she felt the many hands (she had lost count at fifty) started to pull her into the wall. She just about lost it then as she started to kick, scream, even dig her nails into her fleshy chains.

Meanwhile, Pinocchio was taking joy in her struggles, if the wheezing laugh from the creature was any indication. Belle could just picture him grinning evilly, half of his face almost normal, while the other half was all decay and bones.

_"Just give in, Belle. You might just like the dark side, you know. We have cookies!"_

At the last sentence, the creature burst out into sporadic laughter, similar to how it had done previously. Only this time, he was joined by what sounded like hundred other forms of laughter, all of them twisted and childlike…

_…Coming from the other side of the wall._

"No!" Belle cried as her leg disappeared into the wall. Then next, her arm and her other leg. Her eyes snapped shut. "NO!"

**"NO!"**

When Belle opened her eyes she was lying on her hospital bed, inside her dark hospital room. She could hear the loud "beeps" of her erratic heartbeat and she could feel her chest caving in and out with each harsh breath. Sweat had blanketed on her brow, and on various other parts of her body, underneath her hospital gown.

She passed an arm over her eyes, closing them, and tried to get herself calm and relaxed. It was very difficult however; for she finally realized what Pinocchio really was, and it terrified her.

Though she was a writer, and often a citizen of her own little world, Belle was still dependent on logic, just like any other human being. Her conclusion, though she was certain she was right, shocked and scared her as much as her dream.

_Because ghosts aren't supposed to exist._

Belle took in a shuddering breath and turned her body to face the right side of her bed. Then she closed her eyes and was pulled into a dreamless, and nightmare-less, sleep. She mentally decided how she was going to deal with this in the morning, and in the days to come.

For the second time, Belle wished that she had never gone to Fantasia.

* * *

_Once Belle was asleep, she didn't notice the two figures that came in her room. They had both phased through the window, and then floated down at her side to observe her sleeping face. The taller figure put its hands on its hips and glared down at her._

_"I can't believe she actually dreamed of us like that."_

_The shorter one beside him snorted._

_"Speak for yourself. I'm the one who gets the bad rep over here," he shrugged. "But I don't blame her, not after everything's that's happened."_

_"Yeah, I guess…Still, that nightmare of hers was so…cliché. I mean seriously, killer ghost children?"_

_"At least she got the glowing eyes part right…. Still, personally, I blame all the recent horror movies. You know, like _The Ring_, or_ The Omen_, or perhaps _The Children of the Corn_..."_

_"Ooh, ooh, I _love _that movie!" The taller figure looked like he was jumping up and down in glee. "Me and Tink used to watch it when it came on every Halloween."_

_The shorter chuckled. "Yeah, you two _would_ love that movie….Speaking of which, how are they?"_

_A pause._

_"…They're kind of…out of it right now. My mom actually made me breakfast this morning. My favorite too—chocolate chip pancakes."_

_The shorter hissed in a breath sympathetically. "That's rough, Peter."_

_"Yeah…"_

_"…You know that only means she loved you with all her heart, right?"_

_Sigh. "Yeah, I _know_. Hook gave me the same lecture earlier."_

_"Oh, well that's—wait a minute," the shorter gaped up at him. "You visited _Hook_?"_

_"Yeah. So what?" Peter Pan said defensively._

_"So…nothing." His voice became sly. "I'm just worried if it's already 2012, that's all. That's when the world is supposed to end you know, at least according to the Ancient Mayans."_

_"Oh, shut up, Pinocchio!" Peter shoved him, though not too hard. _

_Pinocchio chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement._

_There was a silence between the two ghost boys as they stared down at Belle. Both of them had serious faces, but they kept their thoughts hidden from one another, at least until Peter decided to break the silence. He couldn't stand being quiet for too long; it unnerved him in life, and it still unnerved him in death._

_"Do you really think she can help us?"_

_Pinocchio was silent before answering, "I'm pretty sure she can…if she decides to that is. I'm not going to force her into anything she doesn't want to do, especially considering her circumstances."_

_Peter quirked an eyebrow. "That doesn't really sound productive, Pinoke."_

_He sighed. "I know Pete, and I don't want to wait any longer, but I won't force Belle to do this. I'll just try to persuade her the best I can. I'm afraid that that is _all _I can do."_

_At Peter's look, Pinocchio calmly nodded at the window. Though it was impossible for a ghost to be tired, he looked wearier than an adult. That face basically meant that right here and now was not where and when they should talk about these things. Peter didn't want to obey, but he felt like he owed Pinocchio, so he didn't feel like being rebellious (not that there was any reason to _be_ rebellious now)._

_And so, as quickly as they had arrived, Pinocchio and Peter Pan vanished out the window, flying over the town they had once called home._

* * *

Okay, now _this_ chapter is my longest. Please disregard what I said (typed, whatever :P) in the previous chapter.

Now, onto the Author Notes (warning: it's a long one):

*Why isn't Hook a "villain" and a stoic seeming, boring medical examiner that has a hook for a hand? I don't know, it just seemed like the perfect role to put him in. Personally, I kind of feel sorry for him sometimes. I think if he gets enough therapy he can get over his whole wanting-to-kill-Peter Pan-for-revenge-thing. But hey, this is just me. So, with this being said, I should say a little something about the villains we all know, hate, and sometimes love.

The fact is, they aren't all going to be inherently evil, at least not the ones that show up here (not including "Monstro" whose identity is only known by me, muwahaha). Instead they are just going to be either misunderstood, or they are going to have made stupid mistakes based on their actions, like how all humans in society do.

Oh my god, don't ever watch _Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni _at night. It will give you the most disturbing nightmares, especially if you watch it during the summer.

And to all of you who don't know what I'm talking about, _Higurashi_ is a horror/mystery/psychological Japanese anime that is probably the scariest I've ever seen yet. It is also the anime that helps inspire me for the horror scenes in "Nothing Sacred".

You know the part where Pinocchio laughs insanely in Belle's nightmare? That was an element borrowed from _Higurashi_. If you want you could go on YouTube and type in Higurashi+laughs. For whatever you get, just picture Pinocchio doing the laughing, if that helps your imagination a little bit.

BTW: *Another element from _Higurashi_. There is a character on the show who is practically the only person who has a clue about what's going on with the other characters. She looks young, acts childish, but when she is serious, her voice drops a tenor, making her sound more mature and older than her age suggests (you'll learn why if you watch the second season). I basically incarnate some of her personality onto Pinocchio, since his role is important in this story.

But hey, don't let me spoil it for you. If any of you are anime lovers, as well as Disney lovers, then I recommend _Higurashi _to you, especially if you are horror fans. You'll get addicted, trust me. (Just don't watch it at night.) To those who are skeevy around gore and scare, then it's probably not for you.

**Now, the really important note: My next update might take a little while, because I'm going to start my first year of college in a few weeks (Yay me!). Until the thirty-first, I'm going to be shopping for books, bags, notebooks, recorders and many more. Also, once I start college, I'm going to be smothered in workload, so I most likely won't have time for fanfiction in general. Sorry, but think of it this way—I left you with an extra long chapter to keep you entertained until I get back to you.**

* * *


	9. Interlude: Alice

**Note: Sadly, this is not exactly and update. And this does not mean that I'm back just yet. I just wanted to put this down since it's been in my head for a while, and I figure you guys at least deserve whatever few answers you get from this. Hope you enjoy this little interlude in "Nothing Sacred"!**

* * *

**Interlude: Alice**

The boy walked through the forest, his head turning side to side; searching for the girl who he knew resided in there. She was most likely in the Red Queen's castle, having a good round of croquet, or at least the version she played best. He certainly didn't agree to using animals such as flamingos and porcupines as "toys", but he didn't dare say it.

Not only for her sake, but for his own.

You would have to be a fool to displease Alice, especially in the world she had created, the imaginary place justly deemed Wonderland.

A leaf rustled from his side, behind a wall of forest. The dark haired boy paused and his blue eyes narrowed.

"Who's there?" he called out. "Show yourself."

He didn't get an answer from the forest. In fact, the whole forest had gone silent. Neither a flower nor a horn bird made any sound, not even a hint of a song. The boy felt a cold, paranoid feeling settle in his stomach. He didn't like it when Wonderland got quiet. It was never a good thing.

Though nothing had jumped out at him, the boy clenched one of his hands, where a hatchet instantly appeared. He grasped the tiny axe tightly as his blue eyes scanned the area, his body on full alert.

You might think it odd for his paranoia, and you might be right.

Then again, you didn't know Alice as well as he did.

"Ooh, back again, Pinocchio?"

Though the smooth voice behind him was familiar, Pinocchio still jumped and gasped in shock. He immediately turned and directed his gaze to a tree branch, where the source of the voice was, and then he scowled.

"Cheshire Cat," he greeted dryly. "What a surprise."

The fat purple cat grinned widely, revealing two rows of sharp white teeth. It walked into the sunlight, to the edge of the tree branch, and locked its glowing yellow eyes on Pinocchio, who glared back at him. Pinocchio never liked this creature of Alice's, and he will never understand why she kept it in this little world she had created. It was the only one that wasn't under her complete control. It was as if the Cat wasn't part of Wonderland at all, and that was enough to cause Pinocchio to distrust it.

"She is not pleased with your visit," the Cat said.

Pinocchio rolled his eyes.

"Really? I didn't notice."

The creature chuckled darkly. "Don't take it out on _me_, boy. _You_ are the one who often brings bad news."

The boy lowered his head guiltily.

"…It's not like I mean to."

The Cat jumped from its position on the branch to strut around Pinocchio on the ground. His grin and eyes widened with something akin to sadistic glee. Pinocchio wasn't really sure though. No one could ever read the Cheshire Cat's mug all that well, not even Alice.

"My dear, dear boy," it said with mock comfort. "I know that. And she knows that, also." It smirked, adding, "That's why she hasn't ordered the Red Queen to chop off your head yet."

Pinocchio smirked acidly back at it.

"And I am so thankful for that. Just take me to her, Cat."

"Tut, tut, so impatient. I'd think that being wandering ghost for a decade would cause you to develop those."

Despite its admonishment, the Cat turned around and walked off into a direction, nodding to Pinocchio. The boy waited until there was a comfortable distance between the two of them before following.

It was a couple of minutes before the scent of sweet cakes and tea reached Pinocchio's nostrils. As he listened closely, he summated that Alice had been joining in a daily tea party with the Hatter, another resident of Wonderland. Pinocchio never knew what to think of him, except for the fact that the Hatter had a slight negative influence over Alice. He supposed he wouldn't like any of the residents of Wonderland—except the caterpillar, of course. He seemed to be the calmest thing there.

The Cat grinned over its haunches, jumped on the stone wall that covered the Hatter's property, and then nodded at the open gate.

Then it disappeared in thin air, its wide, haunting grin being the last thing Pinocchio saw before it faded also.

The ghost boy shuddered slightly. He could swear he still heard the Cat's laugh echoing throughout all of Wonderland, an outright premonition of whatever storm was going to come.

An "I know you are totally screwed, and I'm going to laugh as I watch your misery" kind of laugh, if you will.

"Alice?" Pinocchio walked through the gates. "You there?"

"I'm here, Pinocchio."

The minute you enter the Mad Hatter's house, you see a long table that was fit to be in the royal Great Halls of old. There were only a few chairs, since the Mad Hatter didn't get that many visitors, except the March Hare and that little field mouse that would hide in the teapots. Today, however, the walking and talking animals were absent. When Pinocchio walked in, he only saw Alice sitting at the head of a table, her back straight and her blue eyes cool. She looked almost regal; despite her being in that simple blue dress her mother had made for her when she was alive.

The little blonde girl took a sip from her teacup, her eyes still on Pinocchio, peeking over the rim of the cup.

Pinocchio couldn't help but be aware of the ominous silence of Wonderland. Yet he also felt a thousand eyes on him. It was as if everyone wanted to watch the show.

"I came to see you." He took a seat next to her.

Alice smiled, a cold facial expression settling in. "I know, Pinocchio. But would you please make it quick. I don't think I'm up for broken promises today."

He visibly flinched. "I'm sorry, Alice."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, her irises briefly shifting from that beautiful shade of blue to red, then back to blue again.

" 'Sorry' still hasn't brought _him_ to me with _his_ head on a silver platter, has it Pinocchio?"

When the boy was silent, she practically snapped.

"_Has it, Pinocchio?_"

He hesitated.

"…No…"

The minute the word came out of his mouth, Pinocchio found himself thrown onto the table, and his eyes squeezed shut at the pain of the impact. When he felt a small body straddling his own, he opened his eyes slowly and was met with a pair of ruby red orbs that gleamed with bloodlust and fury. Alice's lovely face was twisted in rage, her lips drawn back into a snarl that revealed razor sharp fangs for teeth.

She drew back her pale fisted hand and delivered a powerful punch to his face. As she continued hitting him, Alice screamed in his face, relishing in the pleasure of making his nose break and his face bleed a black substance that was akin to human blood.

_"Don't go making excuses, you lying bastard! You promised me, Pinocchio! You promised me that you'd get _him_ for me!"_

When he looked up at her, he saw that Wonderland's sun had been blocked by a huge, dark cloud.

Pinocchio could have thrown her away from him, yet he didn't. He just lay there and took it, knowing that it wasn't Alice's fault. It was just the ghoulish nature settling in as a result of being so far from the Afterlife after so many years. All of the ghosts were susceptible to it, including him. And Pinocchio understood all the haunts that chose to give in to their madness.

**_"But I don't want to go among mad people."_**

There were just times…when madness seemed to be the easiest way out.

**_"Oh, you can't help that…"_**

Finally, with one final bash to his head, Pinocchio passed out.

The last thing he heard was crashing thunder and rain.

**_"We're all mad here…"*_**

* * *

He woke up to the sound of rain, Alice's weeping and feeling a cool cloth on his head. Pinocchio blinked open his eyes and saw that he was lying on the grass, under a giant mushroom. He slowly sat up, grabbing the cloth on his forehead before it fell. He didn't feel any pain. He never did whenever he suffered the abuse from another ghost, because the wounds always healed.

When he sat up, Pinocchio saw Alice's form crouched and hunched a few feet away from him, just a few inches from getting hit by the rain that poured down from the skies. Her body was trembling and Pinocchio could hear her sobbing, even if her face was buried against her knees.

Pinocchio's eyes softened and he crawled over to sit next to the girl. He could tell she sensed his presence because he saw her tense and turn her body slightly, so there was no way she could face him. Pinocchio wasn't deterred though. Instead, he just scooted closer to her and tentatively wrapped a hand around her shoulder. When she tensed even more, he gave her a gentle squeeze and rubbed her shoulders.

Finally, she picked her face up to look at him, her lips trembling.

"W-why are you always so nice to me, Pinocchio? All I do is hurt you, you know."

Smiling, Pinocchio rolled his eyes playfully. "That's not _all _you do. Sometimes you force me to ride lily pads down the river, and you know how much I hate _that_."

Alice giggled, though it came out as a hiccup. She leaned on his shoulder and sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Pinocchio smiled at her softly, stroking her hair comfortingly. "Don't think anything of it, Alice. There's really nothing to forgive. We all lose control sometimes."

She scoffed. "Not you, surely."

"Of course me," he huffed back. "I'm not _all_ innocent under these boyish good looks." He winked, smiling. "You just haven't seen the bad side."

Alice smiled up at him, her tears lessening. There were times she forgot how lucky she was that Pinocchio actually stopped to care for her, even when she was at her worst. But she would always remember, and that was what saved her most of the time.

"So, what was it you wanted to tell me," she asked, after a pause.

Pinocchio smiled nervously, scratching the back of his head. How was he going to put this?

"Well, to start, I've got some good news and some bad news."

Alice frowned, and then sighed. "Fine…but start with the good news first."

"The good news is that we've found a proper medium who can see us as if we were still alive," he said cheerfully.

"And the bad news?"

"There are a couple of those, the first being the obvious one…"

She rolled her eyes. "We can't tell the person who murdered us, because that goes against the rules regarding relations with those in the Living World. Since we are not part of that world, we can't deal with justice our way, so we have to have living humans deliver justice for us, since he is still part of the living.*"

Pinocchio quirked an eyebrow. "I've said that before, haven't I?"

Alice laughed slyly. "Only about a hundred times."

"Right. Anyway, about the second one, she kind of…sort of saw Pete's corpse."

Alice quirked an eyebrow.

"Which means…?"

"She's feeling upset and frustrated, and that might interfere with her decision to help us."

She bit her lip, understanding falling on her. If the medium is distressed then she might not want to help them after all. She would want to get out of Fantasia as fast as she could.

Alice's eyes steeled with determination.

There was no way they were going to let her get away. This medium was the savior they'd been waiting for. They would probably not get this chance until years later, when Monstro finally died. The problem was that Alice felt she couldn't wait years…

…And neither could Pinocchio.

After all, how long would it be before he succumbed to the madness just like her…?

"Send her to me," Alice said coldly. "I'll convince her."

Pinocchio sighed. "Let's not get too hasty here. We should try to convince her without threatening her."

Alice pouted.

"I wasn't going to _threaten_ her. I just want to give her a little…jolt, is all."

"She gets enough of that from her nightmares," he replied wryly.

The blonde girl hummed, frowning, and then she beamed. "What about Christopher Robin? Could you show her him?"

Pinocchio winced, looking pained. "I don't know about that. Chris probably wouldn't want anyone to see him like that…"

She lowered her gaze guiltily, but then she looked at him firmly. "True, but he wouldn't want you to let this one get away. Remember that."

The boy sighed.

Then he slowly nodded. "I'll think about it."

Alice smiled reassuringly at him, and then she stood up, facing forward out at Wonderland.

"The rain's stopped." She looked down at him. "Would you like to have some tea? It's feels like years since the last time we just sat down and talked."

Pinocchio blinked, and then he smiled. He stood up from the ground and then grasped her hand.

"Sounds like a great idea."

* * *

Dudes, I think I just hinted at Pinocchio-x-Alice.

Oh, god, that has to be the crackiest of all the crack pairings anyone could create in Disney fan fiction.

Oh well.

*The quote in bold/italics is from Lewis Caroll's novel, _Alice and Wonderland_. I'm pretty sure you all knew that already, but I still thought it'd be good to put.

*If you've ever seen Corpse Bride, then you know what I mean. The dead people couldn't kill Emily's murderer until he died and became like them. That's basically where I got the concept from. If you haven't seen this movie yet, then I suggest you go to the nearest Blockbuster (or go on NetFlix, whichever), rent it and watch it. It is really good.

Read and review, please! Nice, bad, whichever! Just try not to be rude.


	10. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Persuasion (Part 1)**

_Two small shadows were in a dark forest. One was on the ground with his knees hugged to his chest, while the other crouched down to his level, in order to look into his wide, dazed eyes._

"_They are going to bring her today."_

"…"

"_Christopher Robin, did you hear me?"_

"_Alice…?"_

"_Yes, Chris?"_

**"…_Have you seen my bear?"_**

**_

* * *

_**

Belle moaned and tossed her head side to side. She could feel herself begin to wake up, but she didn't want to. She had just come home from the hospital a day ago, after a week of shots, and some counseling, due to her little revelation on "Pinocchio", if that was _its _real name. She was lucky enough that the doctors had deemed her mentally stable enough for her to be released.

After a run in with a ghost, a few corpses, and one jerk of a police officer, Belle thought she was worthy of sleeping as late as she wanted.

Unfortunately, someone in her bedroom didn't feel that way.

She cringed as she heard another object be thrown on the floor. It had been going on for a while now and it was starting to get her pissed off. She secretly hoped that it was Lady, because if it was that Mael jerk, she swore she would kick him where the sun "don't shine", if the reader will forgive her improper grammar.

Belle snorted slightly, smirking with something akin to deviance. Perhaps that's what she should do the next time she saw him. That way the bloodline of jerks would end with him.

She was brought out of her musings when she heard a voice cry out in the room.

"Jeez, doesn't this woman have something _other_ than romance…? Ugh, gross."

This comment was immediately followed by another of her books falling to the floor. As it did, Belle felt even angrier.

Seriously, who was this guy?

No, not even a guy—it was a kid.

A kid she was certain she didn't know, but she didn't feel like reprimanding for breaking into the house, at least not until her mind got clearer.

She growled as the voice went on again.

"I can't believe that Pinocchio isn't even here! Damn little midget, forcing _me_ to wait, and all because he's 'older than me' too. Bah!"

That made Belle's eyes snap wide open.

She sat up so quickly that she almost got whiplash. When she did, she immediately spotted a tall, but young boy in front of her bookcase, tossing book after book over his shoulder, his face twisted into expression of disgust and scorn. She blinked her eyes some more and focused her eyes on the kid enough to take in his appearance.

He had red hair and green eyes. He looked to be about in his early teens, if not younger. His clothes consisted of a pair of jeans, Converse sneakers, a navy duster, and a t-shirt. His stance was cocky and proud, like most boys his age.

Belle snorted bitterly, not really registering the situation. The kid probably hadn't even hit puberty yet, and he was insulting _her_ choice of literature. What did he read anyway, comic books?

…

_Wait…_

Belle's eyes widened as the image of that corpse came to mind. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her lips parted before she could control her voice.

"YOU!"

The boy jumped and immediately turned his head to look her, his expression scared one minute before calming down. He narrowed his eyes slightly at her, tilting his head to one side curiously.

"You can actually see me?" he asked softly.

Belle was too shocked to respond vocally. Her mouth hung open in a gape as she stiffly nodded. All she could think about was the image of the dead boy. She knew that the kid standing in front of her was him, though she never saw his dead face. She recognized him from his photo, the picture that had been put up in the newspaper next to the article that had been written about the murder.

The boy—what was his name again? Peter?—smiled and kicked off the ground, floating towards her.

Yes, you read right—_floating_.

_Oh…my…God…_

Belle suddenly felt lightheaded.

"Wow," he breathed when he was in the air. "So it's really true, you _can_ see us," he chuckled. "You know I didn't really believe Pinocchio when he told me, but now that I've seen the proof, well…" Smiling, he shrugged.

A strangled sound was released from the back of Belle's throat as he managed to sit down Indian style in front of her—_in the air!_—just staring and observing her. Though he wasn't that close to her face, she cringed back and crawled against the headboard anyway, trying to get away, while also trying to make sense of the whole thing.

Because this boy—this _particular_ boy—should not be here. He should be in a morgue or something, getting ready to be embalmed and buried at his funeral—after the police got whatever evidence they could from his body, of course. Belle knew all that, but the evidence in front of her showed that that wasn't the entire case.

And though she felt scared, she also felt an underlying anger.

Why the hell wouldn't these ghosts leave her alone?

"Hey, are you okay?" Peter Pan asked, his brow creasing.

Belle's eyes widened further and her mouth parted, releasing her choked sound. Finally, she took in a huge breath.

Peter's eyes widened, as he already anticipated what would come. He started waving his hands at Belle, trying to calm her down.

"Wait, please don't—"

"AAAGH!"

"…Scream."

With her scream released, she felt slightly calmer—in fact, too calm. Her eyes felt heavy and her head felt light. With a final swoon, she flopped back down on her bed.

Peter blinked a few times, bemused, then floated over to the unconscious young woman's side, and proceeded to press one of his fingers to her ribs. When he realized how deep in her renewed sleep she was, he began to panic slightly, and he started poking her a little more roughly.

"Hey, come on lady, get up…please?" he pleaded softly.

Belle's soft sleepy moans were his only answer.

"This isn't funny, not at all. If Pinocchio sees you like this, with _me_ here, then—well, let's just say it won't be pretty."

He broke off into nervous chuckles, which quickly died as he let out a soft frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, _that_ could have gone better."

"…Yes, it could have."

Peter froze, swallowed, and then stiffly turned around to see Pinocchio leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His cool eyes were narrowed mischievously as a sly smile adorned his face. Sitting right beside him, her muzzle drawn back into a protective snarl, was Lady.

"Pinocchio," Peter greeted nervously, and, when hearing a growl from Lady, he added, "And…dog."

"Heya Pete," Pinocchio returned, an eyebrow quirked. "Care to explain what happened?"

The taller ghost boy smiled shakily down at his short superior, and started laughing nervously as he sputtered out his explanation. However, no matter whatever excuse he could come up with, Peter Pan knew that he was busted.

_Crap._

VVVVVV

Belle woke up to voices that seemed to be arguing, but, out of fear and paranoia, she didn't open her eyes.

"I can't believe you!" exclaimed a familiar sounding little boy. "What were you thinking coming here, Pete?"

"Well," began a sly sounding voice, "I was thinking of meeting this lady, just to see it for myself."

"…And you thought that was _okay_?"

"Yeah…at least until she fainted, anyway…. But I didn't know she'd do that, I swear!"

"Well what did you _expect_? She just saw your body a week ago, dumb ass."

"…I didn't expect her to _faint_ though."

Belle heard the first little boy groan, and she could have sworn she could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Pan, you are absolutely hopeless sometimes…"

"Oh, right, because you're so _much_ easier to live with, Pinoke."

It was at this time that Belle chose to open her eyes and sit up a little in her bed. Her vision was a little groggy at first, so the first two things she saw were two blurry figures. One was tall and seemed to have red hair, while there was a smaller blur that looked more familiar to her.

As the argument between the two blurs continued, Belle's vision became clearer. Her eyes widened and her breathing got shallow.

_Dear fucking God, WHY?_

"Actually, I've learned from many that I'd be a very amiable person to live with," the smaller boy said, a hint of smugness in its voice. "Unlike a certain little brat I could mention."

"…You know what, Pinocchio?"

"…What, Pete?"

"Fuck you."

A scoff. "And here I thought you didn't curse."

"Well, there's no real point anymore since I'm dead, so I can cuss all I want now. So: Fuck. Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck."

"Oh, quoting _South Park_. How original."

Peter smirked and held up his index finger, wagging it side to side. "Ah-ah-ah, not just _South Park_, but the _South Park_ movie."

Pinocchio groaned softly and rolled his eyes, his gaze quickly landing on a quivering, wide-eyed Belle sitting on the bed. He smiled brightly at her as he rushed over to her. Peter quickly took notice of this also, but stood back, his stance looking hesitant.

"Belle, you're awake," he said. "That's good. I was a little worried for a minute there…"

"Get out."

Pinocchio blinked at her. "Pardon?"

Belle pointed at her door with a shaking finger. "Please, get out," she said tightly.

The ghost boy's eyes softened with compassion. "Belle, I know you're upset…"

"Upset?" Brown eyes glared at him. "I'm not upset. I just think that I'm going crazy! I've been visited by a ghost, who I thought was a real boy. I've been hit on the head too many times to count—I'm lucky enough not to have brain damage. I've seen a corpse, the corpse of a kid—something I hoped never to see in my life! And now, I'm being haunted by two ghosts, who won't leave me alone!"

Pinocchio bit his lip. "Belle, I—"

Belle turned her head away, blatantly ignoring his pleading face. "Just get out of here, the _both_ of you." She looked pointedly at Peter, who scowled at her in return.

"Fine," Peter bit out. He immediately phased through the floor and was gone.

Only Pinocchio stayed and continued to stare at her with an illegible facial expression. Belle glared harder at him and pointed to the door.

"Didn't you hear me? I said _get out_!"

"I heard you," he replied in a monotone voice.

His lack of a reaction made her even angrier. "Then why aren't you moving?"

"I just wanted to talk to you."

"Well, I don't wanna talk. Leave!"

He gave her a hard look, his eyes narrowed. "You know, I didn't make you follow me. In fact, I didn't even ask. You did that to yourself, Belle."

"…What're you saying?"

"I'm saying; don't blame others when your own actions are the ones that brought you problems."

She flushed angrily. "Just get out."

Pinocchio shrugged. "Fine."

With that said, he then phased through the floor and left.

Belle waited a few beats, as if expecting him to come back, and then she sighed with relief. Lady hopped onto her lap and nuzzled her chin comfortingly. Belle smiled down at her and petted her on the head. As she ran her fingers through her beloved dog's fur, her eyes couldn't help but linger on where Pinocchio had been standing. Finally, still holding Lady, she stood up from the bed and looked down at the dog in her arms.

"Come on Lady, let's take a walk."

* * *

Surprisingly, Belle's walk went on without a problem—at first, anyway. No one in Fantasia stopped to ask her about "the body", and no one asked why she had been in Skull that night. She had had enough of that during the police interrogations, where she had to make her statement, so she was happy not to encounter such an experience again.

However, it wasn't as if Belle didn't get the occasional suspicious, paranoid stare that would make her cringe and turn her eyes ahead, avoiding all possible eye contact. It didn't really shock her that she would be getting some looks from these small town strangers. It had been about a week since Peter's body had been found. It was practically natural for most, if not all, of the townspeople to know about her.

Belle eventually came to ignore the stares though, deciding to keep moving forward instead. There was no specific location to Belle's and Lady's journey. Belle just went wherever her legs took her, and Lady followed via her blue leash. It was a sort of "leave it up to fate" thing, since Belle was too distracted by her thoughts to care about where she was walking.

So it was really no surprise a few hours later, when she eventually realized that she and Lady had ended up at a cemetery.

Belle blinked, looking and feeling bemused as she observed the now somber surroundings. She quickly noticed what looked like a faraway blot of black among the tombstones on top of a hill. When she walked closer though, she realized that it was a group of mourners at a funeral—ironic, since the weather was nice, instead of the typical dreary rain depicted in movies.

A gray haired priest with hollow cheeks and a baritone voice was delivering the burial rites, his hands spread out forward as he spoke.

Next to him were a well-dressed, wealthy looking couple and a young blonde woman, who had dark circles under her blue eyes. Belle inferred that they were the family of the deceased.

After them was another family, this one featuring a young, sobbing girl—probably about twelve years old—with curly brown hair and blue eyes, a little brown haired boy who looked about four (who was clutching his sister's hand with one of his own, while holding a teddy bear with the other), and another young boy with glasses over his eyes, who must have been a year or two younger than the girl.

Then there was a Native American man with (presumably) his daughter, who stared forward with her chin up proudly, as if refusing to shed a tear.

As Belle eyed the girl, she quickly realized that the girl saw her as well, and she froze.

The Native American girl stared at her, her dark eyes twinkling with stoic knowledge, and yet, there was a silent accusation in those eyes as well…

_How could you turn them away?_

"Black is not her color."

Belle jumped at the broken voice behind her. When she turned to face the owner though, she relaxed when she saw Peter standing there.

Then she mentally kicked herself for feeling relief at seeing a _ghost_, as if it was normal.

She wanted to ignore him, but against her better judgment, Belle spoke to him softly, "I beg your pardon?"

Peter regarded her with dull eyes, and, with a slight shrug, he nodded his head towards the crowd.

"The girl over there, with her little brothers—the color black doesn't do her justice. I always liked blue on her more; it matches her eyes you see." He smiled sadly, "I don't hold it against her though. Wendy's always been more of a traditional sort of girl."

Belle glanced at the burial, then back at him. "This is your funeral."

He inhaled deeply, though Belle doubted he really needed to. "Yep."

There was a bit of an awkward silence between them, since neither knew what to say to each other. Belle half-expected him to yell at her about her treatment of him and Pinocchio, and she almost wanted to yell at him for invading her space once again. But she knew that now wasn't the time, not when Peter was just feet away from his body. Belle couldn't imagine what the kid was feeling at the moment.

"I thought there would have been more people here," she finally said. "I mean, from what I've heard, everyone's upset about your death."

"The majority of them already paid their respects last night, at my…wake," he choked slightly. He cleared his throat and continued, "I'm actually glad that there are not that many now. I mean, it's bad enough my friends saw my body yesterday—I don't need them to see me buried as well. I think it would be too much for them. I know it would be for me, if I was in their place. I didn't even think they made coffins in my size."

Belle looked at Peter, sympathy and compassion in her eyes. He really was just a kid, she reminded herself as she looked at him—a punk ass kid with a "nothing can touch me" attitude to boot, but a kid none-the-less. Though he was nearly taller than her, Belle couldn't help but take in his young, childish face—the face of one who had died too young.

"…I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's not like _you_ were the one who killed me," Peter added bitterly.

There was an awkward pause after that—long enough for Belle to notice the dry tear streaks on the ghost's face.

_Well, no duh—of course he would be crying. He's seeing himself get buried for God's sake!_

Someone had to change the subject fast, Belle realized as she cleared her throat.

"So, why don't you tell me about them—the people here, I mean?"

"…Sure—why not?" Peter shrugged, but looked grateful nonetheless as he pointed at his family first. "That's my mom and dad. If you ever meet them, don't let first impressions fool you—they aren't as uptight as they seem. I used to think they were just a bunch of jerks who wanted to push me and my sister to fit into their standards, as a displacement of their disappointment for not living the life they wanted when they were young.

"Next to them is my sister, Tinkerbell—my childhood bodyguard, as well as the only person who understands me. She went to the city a year ago, because she said she was 'suffocating' in Fantasia. I wanted to go with her, but I'm—_was_ under the custody of my parents. To live with her would have not only caused some legal bull, but also an even bigger rift between us and our parents—so, she left me to stay here. I understand though, so I'm not _too_ angry at her.

"That girl from before is Wendy Darling—my next door neighbor, the best story teller I've ever met, and one of my best friends. Her brothers are John and Michael—your typical know-it-all, and cute, but not all that bright duo.

"The girl next to them is Tiger Lily. She and the rest of her family live at the Iroquois reservation not too far from here. She's a quiet one, but she's the best listener you will ever find. Of course," he chuckled slightly, "she's also brutally blunt sometimes, especially when you make an ass of yourself—she does it out of love though…sometimes."

Belle smirked slightly. "There seem to be a lot of girls in your life."

"What can I say?" Peter mirrored the playful tone, pointing to his chest. "I'm a pimp."

As the two of them chuckled, Belle noticed the girl Tiger Lily looked away from the priest and looked Belle's way again. Peter noticed, smiled, and gave a small wave. Tiger Lily smiled slightly and nodded in acknowledgement, and then she went back to listening to the sermon.

Belle blinked. "She can see you."

"Eh, a little bit." He shrugged. "According to her, she just mostly sees a blur that is barely recognizable, and she can't hear me speak unless I possess a toy and speak through it."

Her eyes widened. "You can do that?"

"Oh, yeah—Pinocchio taught it to me. He says it's helpful when talking to a possible medium." He looked at Belle. "You're the only medium I've met (so far) who can actually perceive me and Pinocchio with all five senses, without us using possession."

Belle stared at him. "You make it sound as if I'm special."

"You are—at least, according to Pinocchio, anyway."

She cringed slightly, feeling guilty at how she had yelled at the younger looking ghost boy.

"Is he…upset with me?"

Peter shrugged. "Not sure. The guy can be a little hard to read sometimes. And anyway, he's out visiting the Blue Fairy, so I'm not really sure."

"Who's the Blue Fairy?" Belle asked.

The boy paused, and then lifted himself to float over her head, lying down on his side in the air. He propped his arm to rest his chin on his palm and looked down at Belle.

"Honestly, I don't know; I've never met her. I've only been dead for a short while, so my knowledge of the 'other side' is somewhat limited to whatever little things Pinocchio's told me. From what I could tell though, she seems to be the one in charge of all the ghosts who haven't moved on. She keeps track of them; makes sure they aren't stirring up trouble in the living world, crap like that."

She hummed, and nodded. _I suppose that makes sense. I just can't help but wonder about the odd name though._

"I wouldn't worry about stuff like that now if I were you, though."

Belle looked up at him. "Why's that?"

"Because your dog's gone."

"…WHAT?"

She looked at her hand and realized that it was void of Lady's leash, and ergo Lady herself. Belle then walked away from Peter, calling out for her dog's name with something akin to panic lacing her voice.

She didn't notice Peter watching her, his mischievous smirk widening before he gradually faded from sight.

Eventually, as Belle ran around the cemetery calling for Lady, she found her voice to be joined by a male voice.

"Damn it, Tramp, where are you?"

And before she could register it, Belle turned a corner and collided with the owner of said voice, almost stumbling backward at the impact. Luckily, a pair of strong arms caught her and quickly drew her to a strong, muscled chest before she fell to the ground. Flushing slightly at the close contact, Belle looked up at the person, and her eyes immediately widened with recognition.

"You," she hissed.

Mael just arched an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "And you."

It was then Belle noticed their position, and she jumped away, flushing with embarrassment, as well as anger from how hard she was glaring.

"What are you doing here?"

He replied, "I could ask you the same thing."

"I was going on a walk, like a _normal_ person, along with my," Belle gasped, remembering, "Lady!"

On cue, said dog walked out from behind a tombstone, dragging a blue leash in tow. She saw Belle right away, barked happily, and then ran towards her. Beaming, Belle crouched down and hugged her dog when she stopped. She petted Lady's fur lovingly.

"Don't ever run away from me again, okay," Belle admonished. "I was so worried."

Mael rolled his eyes at her, inadvertently glimpsing a hint of gray fur poking out from behind a tombstone. He turned around and looked intently at the spot.

"Tramp," he said domineeringly. "Come out."

A big gray dog with a maroon collar slowly walked out from behind the same tombstone as Lady. He looked at his owner sheepishly, his muzzle upturned into a slight smile. Despite that sounding annoyed, Mael smirked at his dog and beckoned him forward, to which Tramp obeyed.

As the dog was patted and grabbed by the leash, Belle noticed him look at Lady and give a slight wink to her.

She also noticed the bashful, almost blushing, sort of look Lady smiled back at him. It didn't take a scientist to notice the "twitter-pated" vibes reverberating between the two canines.

Belle's eyes narrowed accusatorily down at Lady. _Traitor!_

The one thing she didn't notice was the similar accusing look Mael was giving Tramp, before looking back at her.

"So, since you found your little pooch, perhaps I can ask again: What are you doing here?"

"Gee, officer, is it suddenly against the law for one to go on a walk anymore?" She replied with mock sweetness as she stood up to face him.

He arched an eyebrow. "At the same time as a recent murdered kid's funeral? Pretty convenient, if I say so myself."

"Or _maybe_ it is a coincidence! Either way, it doesn't make me a murderer!"

"…I never said you were, _Belle_."

Belle felt her face burn a bright red. For some reason, the way Mael said her name unnerved her, giving her shivers that went up and down her spine. It made him seem more familiar than he really was.

The irritating smirk on his face made it even worse.

"Then what's the point of treating me like a suspect?" she screeched, covering up with her anger.

"…Because I know you're involved in this somehow." Mael frowned thoughtfully. "Though I doubt you to be the killer, I can't deny that it was rather _odd _that you just so happened to be there. And I find your little 'ghost Pinocchio' story too fantastic to be true," he added at her indignant face.

Before she could protest, the investigator turned and walked away, dragging his dog in tow.

"Have a nice day, Belle."

For a few minutes of watching his retreating back, Belle's mouth opened and closed, making her look like a fish. Lady looked up at her, looking a little amused as she tilted her head.

Finally, when he was within hearing distance, Belle managed to get her voice box working again. She glared at his back, her face flushing with the embarrassment she felt at the loss of her composure.

"Yeah, you have a nice day too, you asshole!" She waved a tight fist at him.

From where he was standing, Mael smirked slightly and, without looking back, he lifted a hand to wave back at her.

Belle's face got redder as she seethed. "Oh, that…that…ugh!"

"Personally, I think he likes you."

Out of reflex, she jumped away and turned to the source of the voice. Then Belle rolled her eyes and sighed when she saw Peter sitting on the air Indian style, a sly smile on his face.

"And it's a good thing too." He added in a mutter low enough for Belle not to hear, "Asshole needs to get laid."

"...What was that?"

"Nothing. Anyway," he floated down to the ground, standing on it and gesturing for Belle to follow him, "come on, we've gotta go."

Belle looked at him warily. "Go where?"

Dark sunglasses magically appeared on his face as he posed. "The last church you will ever kneel in."

She stared at him. "…Are you serious?"

He smiled sheepishly, the sunglasses vanishing. "No, not really—but I am taking you to a church."

"…_Okay_, if I may ask: why?"

"Because those are my orders—and, as much as I hate following someone else's orders," Peter bit out bitterly, "there will be 'dire consequences' if I don't get this done."

He then started walking away in a random direction. Although her mind was screaming at her not to, Belle started following him, tugging Lady along the way.

"I don't think Pinocchio would be that mean." She assumed he had been talking about Pinocchio.

Peter threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, if you only _knew_, Bells.

"But no; he's not the one I'm worried about."

"Wait, then who—?"

"…You'll meet her when we get there."

VVVVVV

The church must have collapsed under some storm or something, because all that was left of it were debris and faded glass slivers of painted windows. It was settled a couple of feet away from the cemetery, on a tall grassy hill that had some graves on its base.

When Belle saw, she couldn't help but gape at it. Lady joined her at her side, eyes widening as she whimpered.

"What happened?" Belle asked Peter.

"I'm not really sure. I was too young when it happened, but my sister told me about it a couple of times." He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning thoughtfully. "The official story is that ten years ago, while the priest was giving a sermon, the storm from the outside was so strong that it made the old church collapse under the pressure of the winds."

Belle blinked. "But that's not what your sister told you."

He shook his head. "She said that it was caused by an angry ghost, because she heard it scream a few minutes before the church fell."

"How did she know that it was a ghost that screamed?"

"Because no one else heard it."

"Ah," Belle nodded, understanding. She thought for a moment, "Do you know the ghost who did it?"

"That's not important right now," a cool female voice said.

Belle glanced at her opposite side and jumped when she saw a little girl standing there. She had gold blonde hair that went down to her shoulders, icy blue eyes that stared hard up into Belle's brown, and a blue dress that was covered with a lacy white apron.

She blinked for a few moments, calming her speeding heart, and scowled at the little girl.

"Oh, great, it's you."

Alice smirked and quirked an eyebrow. "You don't sound so surprised."

"What can I say? I've been getting used to seeing ghosts today, and I know now you guys won't leave me alone. I might as well not fight it anymore."

"Right, well you're about to see more." The little girl gestured for Peter to come over, and then grabbed his hand. She held out her free hand to Belle, "Take my hand."

Belle looked at her hand skeptically. "Why am I getting the feeling that I'm going to regret this?"

"Trust me; you're not the only one." Peter eyed Alice warily.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you—"

He flashed Belle a mock frightened look and pointed at Alice accusatorily. "Lies, I tell you! Lies!"

Silver flashed and before Belle could blink, Alice had pulled out a knife and put the blade against the boy's throat. The weapon pierced a bit of his skin, causing a few drops of a black liquid, which had a slight red twinge, to seep through. Strangely enough, instead of being scared, Peter just glared at her and stepped back.

Her eyes narrowed. "Shut up, you underling."

"Fine." Peter scoffed and turned his head away, muttering, "Some people can't take a joke…"

Alice nodded curtly and grabbed his hand. Then she closed her eyes and started murmuring words so softly that Belle couldn't catch what she was saying.

Confident that the girl wouldn't hear him, Peter leaned his head towards Belle's ear and whispered, "See what I mean? _Scary~_!"

Belle mentally nodded in agreement as she watched Alice chant. After a while, the girl suddenly started to glow an ethereal blue. She opened her eyes and stared at Belle, offering out her hand.

The young woman hesitated, her brown eyes dimming with fear. Belle didn't know what would happen once she grabbed hold of Alice's hand. She had no idea what ghosts were capable of. For all she knew, they could be like that nightmare she had in the hospital. Did she want to take the risk?

_Please Belle, they need you_, that same motherly voice from before whispered inside her head.

Belle bit her lip. _But I could get hurt._

_You will not be harmed. I promise, _her conscience, or what she thought was her conscience replied.

And so, Belle took Alice's hand. The minute she touched the girl, the three of them started to glow. The light became so blinding that Belle had to close her eyes and grip Alice's hand tighter.

Then, with a sound akin to _POP_, the two ghosts were gone, leaving a lifeless looking Belle to collapse onto the field.

Lady's eyes widened as she ran towards her unconscious human. Her skin had gone sallow and pasty, and her body was cold. The dog whimpered and nuzzled her human; she felt slightly relieved to hear a faint pulse, and soft inhales and exhales of air.

That mean that Belle was alive, no matter how much it didn't look that way.

But this begged the question: What happened to Belle? Where did those two not-humans go?

Lady growled softly as a thought came to her. _Could it be they took her soul somewhere?_

Contrary to popular belief, animals, especially the domesticated ones, were very much aware of souls. They never saw it, or smelled it—but they felt its presence. In fact, when many pets mourned the loss of their humans, they would let out cries of grief as they felt their humans' souls ascend from their bodies.

Whatever the circumstances, Lady decided to worry about that later, when everything was over with. For now, she had to guard Belle's body until her human regained consciousness.

* * *

I LIVE! (pulls a Mushu to face all you readers)

And apparently, so does this story!

There's a second part to this, but I still have to finish that up. As for W.D. Academy, and others?... Let's just hope that I'll be more motivated when my second year of college starts. That seems to be when I actually work on these things.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. I know it's not perfect, but it's a start for a come-back, right? And even if you didn't like it, please tell me what you think anyway. Critiques would be really helpful.


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